Memory's Moon
by Akishira
Summary: We all make choices. And those who came after pay for the ones who came before. Naraku is gone we think?, but Kagome still searches Sesshoumaru just watches her struggle. Updated...
1. The Beginning

_Memory's Moon: The Beginning_

_--_

_Why did you come here?_

She stared at him with blue eyes dulled in anger and exhaustion, her dark hair hanging dully over her shoulders. Dressed in the stark, billowing white haori and blood-red hakama of a miko, she looked- strange, out of place.

She was no miko.

Her power was holy, that was true, but her soul was not that of a miko.

It was that of a warrior.

And the katana, stabbed into the earth in its pulsating saya, had called to that soul.

_They're all dead._

He watched her over the plain-looking leather-bound hilt of the katana, ageless and emotionless. He was not human, after all; he was only a messenger spirit, set here to question those who came to claim the sword.

_Why did you come here, then?_

The hazy blue eyes dimmed, and she looked away from the sword.

_I… have to end this._

Slowly, the being comprehended her meaning, tasting its import on the currents of thoughts in the air, sensing what she meant to do. He frowned at the sword. As with all ancient blades, it had chosen this bearer. Though he was familiar with this kind of choosing; the blade usually ended up back in his care after whatever it was that brought her to this place.

It had once been a village, but once the blade was planted here, the humans had all perished under its power. He himself felt no more than a passing regret for their passing; humans came and went like the spring rains, after all.

Coming to the foregone conclusion, he raised his gaze to the battle-worn young woman who stood before him in ragged shoes.

_This is the Sword of Memory's Moon, Oborezuki._

_Take up this blade if you are prepared to sacrifice the reason for your pain._

She hesitated, eyes narrowing.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

He shrugged briefly.

_It will eliminate the enemy who caused your pain, but in return it will demand the memory of the reason for your pain._

_No power is without sacrifice._

Her hands stretched out, one on the plain leather-bound hilt, the other on the glowing saya that encased its metal blade.

_I knew that long ago, shikigami-san._

The sword slid out of its earthen resting place with a quiet rattle of aged steel.

----

A/N: A change of pace from my usual OC fics. This one will be a 'pure' story, I think… or I hope so. It's probably up to the reviewers to keep my fics on the straight and narrow…

Editing note: Revised. Again. Because I re-read it and caught some really glaring errors… as well as the really awkward ending. Open to suggestions…


	2. Dreams and Illusion

_Memory's Moon: Dreams and Illusions_

_--_

If this was a dream, Kagome thought blearily, she wanted to wake up _now_.

This dream sucked.

This dream had Inuyasha and Shippou's dead bodies in it, Sango's twisted corpse, and a dome-shaped hole gouged in the earth that could only be the site of Miroku's last stand. It had the stench of despair, the bitterness of tears, and the raw smell of uncooked steak- amongst other things.

This dream had Naraku in it, the heavy sweetness of his shouki lingering in the air as he stared impassively at her, bloodied but clearly alive.

This dream had splinters in her hands from a bow snapped in half, scrapes across her exposed knuckles, slashes bleeding a distant warmth down her sides in half a dozen different places.

This dream had Kikyou's stunned face, frozen in its last moments of epiphany as her clay body turned to stone and crumbled away, her tortured soul escaping into the next world in a white mist that only another miko could have seen.

This dream had herself, alone, afraid, and exhausted.

She pinched herself hard.

The dream wouldn't disappear.

It wasn't… a dream.

Higurashi Kagome turned tail and started running, hard.

----

What had brought her here?

_Why did you come here?_

"They're all dead," she replied dully, too weary to stop the moisture from dripping down her dirt-smudged cheeks. She'd run and run and run, mind blank to everything but the pounding despair in her skull, away from the slaughtering field and what it represented.

The end of her innocence.

The end of hope.

The end of the childish belief that she, the lucky one who had once carried the Shikon no Tama, would always have a happy ending, just like all fairytales.

She'd been such a fool, and it had taken her friends' corpses to strip her blindfold away.

_Why did you come here, then?_

To be honest, she didn't really understand how her feet had brought her here. Possibly, this place lay in a straight line from the battlefield… but she didn't know the way back… didn't know the way anywhere anymore.

The one thing she knew for certain was that it was _her fault_ because she could have protected their happy ending, if only she had had the courage to make that one last sacrifice.

But she hadn't had the courage.

The glowing weapon, driven deep into the beaten earth before her, waited for her reply, and she had the uncanny sense that it, as much as the ghostly form of a human male standing beyond it, was examining her soul, looking for- something.

The soul of someone prepared to give up everything for a greater good?

Huh.

She lowered her gaze, blinking away gritty moisture. "I… have to end this."

The transparent shape gazed at her, almost thoughtfully, while she awaited judgment in what must have been a village, at some point. The houses still stood, their damage more a result of time and animals, than of one of the frequent petty wars the Sengoku Jidai was named for.

Had the blade… done this? In this era, if a thing of power came into a village, it usually ended up in a shrine, given the respect and fear that it deserved. But this one had been thrust deep into the ground of what had once been the village square, slightly skewed to one side, and giving off a pulsing glow through its sheath as if it possessed an incandescent heart.

Sort of like the Shikon no Tama?

Her chest clenched painfully, but it was a distant pain. After a few days of nothing but depression and brittle resolve to sustain her, she was feeling wonderfully distant from everything. It wouldn't last, though. She had read enough books on trauma to know that eventually- probably at the most inopportune time, like her final battle with the real Naraku- the distance would fade and she would dissolve into a hysterical wreck then and there.

Way to go, Kagome.

The ghostly male raised his head, and she suddenly became aware of the outline of strange symbols- like the Sanskrit that Miroku had tried to teach her while they made ofuda by flickering firelight- circling restlessly in his see-through body in an unhurried spiral dance.

_This is the Sword of Memory's Moon, Oborezuki._

_Take up this blade if you are prepared to sacrifice the reason for your pain._

Something about his emotionless words set off warning signals in her tired head, and she found that she didn't quite trust this shikigami in the way she used to trust strangers before.

Hell, she didn't trust _anything_ the way she used to, before. Before… everything.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, eyes narrowing. Despite the listless weight that dragged on her bones, she was still Kagome and Kagome had been innocent, not retarded or suicidal. She'd had enough of vaguely-worded sacrifices for seven hundred lifetimes; _those_ usually ended up asking more and more, and paying out less and less as one realized their true import.

The shikigami shrugged briefly, a surprisingly 'modern' gesture from this apparition dressed in the billowing robes of an ancient onmyouji. She hadn't seen anyone else in this era make such a movement naturally; her companions had picked it up from her in the course of their hunt.

What _was_ this sword anyway?

_It will eliminate the enemy who caused your pain, but in return it will demand the memory of the reason for your pain._

_No power is without sacrifice._

She smiled bitterly as the words died softly on the wind.

If she had to forget Shippou, Inuyasha, Sango, Miroku, and everything else she had fought so hard to protect…

If _that_ was to be her sacrifice…

Her hands closed over leather and glowing smooth wood with the finality of a suicide bomber gripping his self-detonate remote, and she felt a crazy sort of grimace curl the corners of her mouth upwards in a grief-twisted parody of the carefree smile she had once sported.

"I knew that long ago, shikigami-san," she told him, and pulled the sword from its crevice with all the painful determination that was all she had to fight with now.

He bowed his head, fading away like cigarette smoke on the wind, and she was left in the ruins of a village that had died in a dream of forgetting, holding a sword that would excise the past three years of her life from her living memory, in exchange for a future that had no need for such memories.

The sword's pulsing glow dimmed as she gathered her energies for the last stand she would ever take, vanishing altogether as she stuck it through the waistband of her borrowed hakama.

Everything was going to turn out… okay. Maybe not for her, but at least it would change _something_.

Higurashi Kagome began to run.

----

A/N: Second chapter. Huh. That was pretty fast for me… and I'm aiming to finish it in under ten chapters… so this is pretty good, too. Reviews appreciated greatly, as always; thanks to that one reviewer who was the only one of 52 hits (as of 12 noon this morning) who actually reviewed… sigh. Feed the author, please.


	3. The Exacted Price

_Memory's Moon: The Exacted Price_

--

She didn't remember how she had gotten here- the journey seemed like barely a foggy blink away- but when the blink of her eyes revealed Kanna's emotionless countenance, she smiled.

The abyss youkai stood before her, framed by the shouki of her creator's fortress, empty hands by her sides, pale and perfect as a demented porcelain doll. Her usually neat, tamed hair had been roughly torn from its childlike pin-up, hanging in uneven wisps about her white face, hanks shorn unevenly as if it had been scissored by someone's shaking hands.

Kanna stood before Higurashi Kagome, huge black eyes dead and bleak- as if Kagura's death had broken her.

And then the girl crumpled to her knees, waiflike in her simple peasant smock, placed her hands on the ground, and bent her forehead to the dirt. Without words, without emotions, the anguish in her hunched body cried out louder than the wail of a bereaved mother.

"Get up," Kagome said shortly, drawing the blade. She was no swordsman, but a strange reflex seethed in her veins; the draw was smooth and expert as if she had swung a sword for most of her life. The blade glowed with a pale moonshine aura, the tip incandescing as it was leveled at the abased youkai.

Kanna did not move.

"_Get up!_ I know what you're trying to do, Naraku. I won't fall for it again."

"Kagura is dead," came the earth-muffled whisper, while its owner crouched unmoving.

"Everyone I ever cared about is dead, too," the ex-miko snapped harshly, her chin describing a short, angry arc in the air. "Get up, Naraku! I won't stoop to your level."

"He is not here."

Furiously, Kagome glared at the impediment in her path. "You ARE Naraku! He made you. You tried to suck out my soul. If you followed his orders, you're with _him_."

Kanna did not answer, but she pressed her face closer to the ground until a dull hiss of steel signaled the lull of Kagome's suspicions; only then did she minutely shift, somehow communicating her need to be commanded. Kagome eyed the abyss-youkai sullenly for a moment, eyes narrowed, before a frustrated sigh escaped her lips. "Get up already."

Obligingly, Kanna got to her feet. She still retained the zephyr-like aura of times past, balanced lightly on small pale feet as if she would dissolve on the wind any moment, but there was something strangely… solid to her, now. "I thought Naraku made you."

"He made us," Kanna agreed in her quiet, dead voice. "And he broke us."

Memory intruded- _a_ _single feather drifting into the sky, spiraling endlessly_- and faded just as suddenly, leaving the ex-miko wondering at the sudden inexplicable sensation of loss that pricked sharply at her heart.

"So you came here to find me?"

Kanna stared at the ground, as she had always done. "He already knows you approach intending to kill him. Kanna did not lead him here."

A thick, hostile silence blanketed the area.

"Kanna will join Kagura when he dies. Kanna will take you there." The white girl turned slowly, and a pale slender finger pointed to the shouki-shrouded fortress. "And then Kanna will leave."

Kagome blinked, the strange emptiness a cool black weight in her torso, like an invisible mental Kazaana. Thoughts flitted through her mind, down her throat and into the emptiness, leaving cool-headed resolve and just a tiny bit of compassion for the misborn youkai. "Leave?"

The mirror was back in Kanna's hands, and the abyss youkai was turning fully toward the fortress. "Kagura… wished to take Kanna flying."

Kagome's thoughts filtered down to the hole in her side, the pale scar where the Shikon no Tama had once slept- the hole that Oborezuki's bound hilt rested against. But there was still enough in Kagome's mind for her to realize what Kanna intended to do, and just enough for her to sorrow, in the silences of her rage-stricken mind where no light fell.

"Maybe, when all this is over, I can go flying with you," the older girl said quietly, falling into step behind the small abyss youkai.

Kanna paused in midshuffle, looked over one slender, rounded shoulder, and smiled.

_Let's go flying someday._

The wind sighed around them, drew in a breath, and faded into the autumn sunset.

----

They walked together in comradely silence as the earth rolled back under their feet, the cool darkness of full dark settling around them as if even the Moon Goddess, Tsukiyomi, blessed their endeavor.

_Wait_. Kagome scowled as she shook her head hard, not breaking stride.

_Tsukiyomi? BLESSING? Since when do I-_

The suspicion grew in her mind, flared, and disappeared.

At her side, Oborezuki's saya glittered briefly.

----

Kanna led them through the moon-frosted grounds in ghostly silence, the unearthy surreality of it all only exacerbated by the total lack of puppets or challenges lying around the place. On one hand, it was a relief not to have to waste energy fighting a whole lot of things that probably counted as Naraku's inexhaustible stunt doubles, but then a small niggling doubt starting in Kagome's mind started insisting that Kanna was tricking her somehow.

"That sword…" Kanna said suddenly, shuffling through a labyrithine maze of shoji screens, "why do you bear it?"

Almost instinctively, Kagome's left hand clenched on the top of the sheath, where polished wood met molded metal in the hilt. "What's it to you?"

"It feels… familiar." A tiny twitch of the white-clad shoulder approximated a fascismile of a shrug, though nothing so expressive as the Western mannerism Kagome had noted from the sword's shikigami caretaker. "Like Kanna."

_Pat pat pat_ went their soft feet on the meticulously waxed floor. Did Naraku get his puppets to do it for him, or did he actually have servants for it, Kagome wondered idly. "It has what I need," she answered simply, the great emptiness echoing tinnily in her chest.

Kanna did not reply, but her mirror cast a soft light on their path, and that light flickered. The abyss youkai came to a halt, raising her gaze almost uncertainly to the darkness ahead. "He… waits. Kanna can lead you no further." Her head bowed, the butchered locks trailing lankly over the curves of her face. "Kanna is sorry."

Kagome hestitated, coming to stand abreast of her unlikely guide, and surprised both of them by reaching out to pat Kanna's head softly. The bottomless eyes glanced up at her, widened slightly as colorless lips formed a slight comma of surprise. "Get far away from here," the ex-miko said quietly, turning away from the uncharacteristic display of emotion. "As far away as you can. Okay?"

There was a slight hesitation, followed by a shake of Kanna's pale head. "Kanna will wait at the gates," the abyss youkai breathed with a new note of stubborn finality, and, ducking under Kagome's hand, shuffled back the way they had come.

Kagome resumed walking.

Three steps on, the sword pulsed softly in its sheath and she could no longer recall what had led her to this strange place.

----

"It's really quite sad, you know," he told her calmly as the blade shone between them. "You're making a worse exchange than Onigumo ever did."

She stared at him with fading blue eyes and made no reply, her left hand leaving its steadying grip on the saya to clasp the sword-grip in a menacing fashion.

"You probably don't even remember what you're doing here anymore."

Shouki curled around them, disappearing as it approached her body. Magenta mixed with moonshine, the ex-miko glowed like the Tama itself given human form, though the crystal in question pulsed darkly in the folds of his elaborate robes. The girl smiled hazily, the look of a kamikaze about to dive-bomb his target. "You're right, I don't remember what your name is… but you won't remember either."

He smirked at her. "You play with things you do not understand, miko."

The blade blurred in the air as she moved with a practiced grace not her own.

"That's _ex_-miko… and you can… go to hell."

The last thing she remembered as Oborezuki filled the air with blinding silver light, was Naraku's strangely peaceful face, a frantic crimson blur, and the hard warmth of the quickly purified Shikon no Tama as it shot into her side like an arrow loosed from a vengeful miko's bow.

She fell into darkness to the accompaniment of someone screaming for her to stop.

----

A/N: I'm not good at fight scenes… and I crave reviews… and it's MONDAY. (;...;)

Next Chapter: Kagome's back. Naraku's gone. And everything's going pear-shaped…


	4. Forgotten

_Memory's Moon: Forgotten_

--

"Kagome-chan, you're going to be late!"

Higurashi Takako had never lamented her lot in life. Losing her loving husband, Shinta, in the very hour of Souta's birth, raising two children in a decrepit shrine with only her slightly fanatic father for emotional support, even watching her young daughter change from a carefree young girl to a deeply wounded young woman, had not been sufficient to destroy her unswerving trust in the inherent purpose of all things. And now that Kagome had returned, safe and sound, she counted her blessings and pronounced herself satisfied with her fortunes, as she had always been.

Well, except when Souta blew up the washing machine…

And when Grandpa had blown the week's marketing money on some monkey paw…

And…

When Kagome had returned… without any memory of her friends down the well.

The middle-aged woman stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting patiently and picking through her confused feelings like a heron hunting fish.

It wasn't as if Kagome had simply regressed to her fifteen year old state, although that might have been harder to bear. No, Kagome was well aware that she was eighteen, remembered all the things she had studied, all the people she had ever known in 'her' era (she still remembered Hojo's intentions toward her and her corresponding feelings toward him, which were, unsurprisingly, not quite reciprocal)… it was just that… she didn't _know_ that she had once fallen through a well and met many people who would become closer, wiser friends than the giddy schoolgirls she had renewed her friendships with. She didn't remember the three years of questing she had very nearly dropped out of high school to accommodate, only that she had been a 'very sickly child'.

They'd made the great mistake of letting Kagome's friends visit her when she regained consciousness. Once the wide-eyed girls explained that she had been absent for two months with a serious case of nearly incurable meningitis, the reason had stuck in her head and become ingrained so deeply along with the other illnesses her friends had recollected to her, until none of Kagome's own family dared to disturb that beautiful delusion for fear of causing the girl's face to twist into that troubled, pinched look that had lined her forehead in that final fateful week before she had returned as she was now.

It was possibly the only time Higurashi Takako had had to quell certain homicidal urges toward her aged father.

He had thereafter burned his medical dictionary at her insistence.

_But then, as long as she's happy… as long as things are over…_

…_as long as things are over… then maybe it's not so bad…?_

"Mama!" Kagome pattered rapidly down the stairs, schoolbag slung carelessly over one shoulder and wavy black hair pulled haphazardly back into a messy bun. She looked harried but happy; the older woman firmly squashed all residual feelings of uneasiness as she smiled fondly at the vibrant young woman who was her beloved eldest child.

"Here, breakfast… I'll leave out lunch for you if you decide _not_ to go out with Yuka and Eri today…?" Takako winced inwardly at the plaintive note in her voice. Okay, so maybe she didn't think staying around those two for very long was a great idea… Luckily, Kagome passed it off as normal motherly concern that she would be as boy-crazy as her two friends, and hastened to reassure her mother to the contrary even as she tugged her socks on, stuffed the proffered piece of toast between her jaws and rushed out at top speed.

…_as long as she's happy,_ Takako reminded herself sternly, _I WILL be happy too._

With that self-admonition in mind, she went upstairs to clean the bedrooms… and was almost instantly arrested by a loud claws-on-glass scratching noise coming from Kagome's room.

She broke into a sprint, knowing that there could be only one person who knew where Kagome's window was…

…and didn't know how to open the window from outside…

_CRASH_

"Oi, Kagome!" the familiar growling voice thundered, to the accompaniment of the sharp tinkling sound of falling glass shards. Takako ground to a halt by the open door of her daughter's bedroom, surveyed Inuyasha's suddenly guilty countenance against the backdrop of a shattered glass window, and let her forehead fall against the light wood with a soft _thud_.

----

He didn't want ramen, which was a surprise; the way Kagome had carried on about his pseudo-obsession, Takako had thought he would enjoy the cheap treat, but no.

Today, Inuyasha was different. He was focused, he was mature, and his face was imprinted with the bleak harsh marks of dawning despair as she folded her hands in her lap and quietly told him not to bother Kagome anymore. "She forgot…" he hesitated, voice dropping to a low rumble, "…she _forgot_ everything?" He had been saying that for a while now, each time stressing a different word as if that would alter its meaning, its import.

She_ forgot everything?_

_She _forgot_ everything?_

_She forgot_ everything?

"She's safe here, happy here," the mother said, the same defense she put up in response to his disbelieving echoes. The excuse seemed stale and just a little sad, and the hurt in his hunched shoulders- a flinch reaction she knew he had never shown Kagome no matter how sorry he had ever been- showed that he accepted the truth in her words. "Just go back down the well, Inuyasha-kun. It's better that way."

He seemed to shrink slightly under the understanding in her gaze. "I… I guess… but there are still shards…"

"Go back, Inuyasha-kun. I've never disapproved of you dragging my daughter around Japan before, so surely you understand my reasons now."

"I…"

"Inuyasha-kun, _go_."

White ears flattened as he rose and slunk silently out of the house. Takako stared at the low table in the wake of his beaten departure, knowing that she had just burned another of her daughter's bridges, and felt her chest twist. "I'm so sorry, Inuyasha-kun…"

----

"I told you not to seek out the miko."

Leaping out of the well, Inuyasha leveled a dispirited glare upon his pale tormentor. "Piss off and get the hell out of my forest."

Slitted golden eyes narrowed. "Her time here is _over_, you stupid half-breed."

They growled at each other.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, isn't the nice lady going to come back?"

The Lord of the Western Lands did not stop glaring at his half-brother. "No."

Rin's eyes grew large and shiny with a child's easy tears. "Why?"

An elegantly clawed hand came down to rest on Rin's dark head. "Higurashi has returned to her home far away. She will not be returning again."

"Did you _say_ something to 'Kaasan?" The young male voice was shrill with bitter disappointment and unreasoning accusation, the verbal barbs sinking deep as Inuyasha flinched and flattened his ears. "I bet you made her angry- she should have given you enough 'sit's to break your dumb head, you-!"

Sesshoumaru's one hand moved in a blur, grabbing the upset kitsune firmly out of the air before he could do something unfortunate. "Be quiet, brat," the lord hissed softly, a hint of venom creeping into his voice. "You speak of things you do not understand-"

"_Everything would be bloody wonderful if she could 'sit' me!_" Inuyasha roared angrily and stalked off into his forest in a fury, leaving behind a bewildered Shippou, a crying Rin and a silent, expressionless Sesshoumaru to absorb the import of his puzzling words.

----

In the wake of Naraku's sudden inexplicable disappearance, the world continued much as it had always been; people lived, people loved, were born, and died. The forests still harbored their youkai cheek-to-jowl with the beasts of air and earth, and the humans still held them in respect and fear. As they should, and with reason. The predator/prey relationship demanded acknowledgment.

And then there were a few pockets here and there… places cursed enough that nothing ever grew there again, places still filled to each grain of dust with the lingering despair of their destruction. Dead places.

Mostly human places. Or _ex-human_ places, to be exact.

The dirt whispered under his boots as he strode through the ghost village, looking neither to the right nor to the left though his senses tingled with the oppressive feel of multiple old deaths- a village full, perhaps. The bodies had long turned dry, the bones fallen to dust, but they had merely taken on a form no less piteous for its lack of coherence. It was as if each old scent in his nose was an ephemeral wail for attention, a last ditch effort to procure oneself a proper grave.

There had been no graves dug here since the final death of the human settlement.

If he cast his mind back, back, back, he could still envision the dead village fresh and raw, the stench of bodies rotting in their own skins because there had been no killing wound. They had died in their own sleep; a peaceful death, perhaps, but _he_ had no use for a useless death such as this. Even in his reverie, his lip curled in an elegant gesture of disdain. _Humans_.

There was a deep narrow scar in the packed earth where the houses parted, a scar that had recently harbored a very special sword… a blade more closely connected to Higurashi Kagome than time or chance might dictate. He approached it calmly, feeling the wind pick up as he neared the scar. It reminded him of days long gone- the first time he had approached the sword, mere minutes after its being planted in this human village. But then his father had towered beside him, the warm prickling shield of a taiyoukai's youki shielding his young self from the worst effects of the cursed blade's power; now, he stood firm on his own power and pushed forward inexorably, clearing the barrier around the scar with only a harder step than usual to show the effort it took.

If the Inu-taishou could have seen his son now, Sesshoumaru thought with grim humor, there would be no doubt about his approval. His son had remembered the father's promises honorably, after all- even if it was to a human. Tenseiga itself had acknowledged its wielder's worthiness, though that approval was marked with the wind youkai's poisoned blood.

He frowned faintly and shoved the unfamiliar feeling of regret back where it belonged.

Drawing Tenseiga from its place of honor by his hip, Sesshoumaru angled it with the original crevice, letting the blade slide in like a stone into water. Instantly the blade's metal edge seethed with light, waves of pulsing power flowing down the sharp length and into the seal affixed into the very earth.

Like smoke gathering into a cloud, the flowing male lines of the shikigami took form, relaxing from a hunched posture as if awakening from a deep sleep. The very detail of this being showed that it had once been something human before being forced into this form… a long time ago.

The Lord flicked a thoughtful, unsurprised glance at Tenseiga. It had the power to reach beyond the grave, yes, but not even Tenseiga could bring something back to life, which did not have a body to return to. The only reason why its powers were useful in this situation was because the soul of this human still resided here, trapped by the seal and the sword which had only recently been taken away.

_Sesshoumaru-sama._

The rich baritone was good-natured and familiar, though made slightly hollow with the weight of death and the ages. Unlike the shikigami which manifested when Oborezuki anchored the spell, this being was a true spirit; _this_ was the ghostly form of the human who had had the unlucky fate of being made into a living sword.

"It is… pleasant… to speak with you again," the inuyoukai said slowly, working his tongue stiffly around the unfamiliar courtesies, a relic of his extreme youth. Once he'd hit the age of self-dependence, he had more or less relied on overwhelming displays of dominance to guide his relationships (if one could call them that) with his peers. "How… have you been?"

_The years have been kind; I have found my daughter. Thank you, by the way._

"You owe me."

_You haven't changed a bit, Sesshoumaru-sama._

The ghost's eyes crinkled in a slight squint, then the lines deepened into laugh lines of real humor as the inuyoukai brandished his claws in warning.

_But you have truly grown since I saw you- how long ago? Five hundred?_

"Give or take," Sesshoumaru conceded graciously, his long mane of hair shifting in the listless wind that eternally caressed this dead ground. "And if you begin sprouting foolish thoughts about yesteryear, Higurashi, you may consider your next nap an eternal nightmare."

_Ah, there's no fun in that. After all, you were only _this_ high-_

"_Higurashi_-"

_You have no sense of humor._

"We will _not_ speak further on this," Sesshoumaru said ominously. "What of your daughter, that Kagome?"

The spirit's humor faded, leaving only a lonely sort of wisdom behind.

_I sent my daughter home. She will be happy there._

_At least she had the chance to return…_

"Ah, your home… through that rickety well-portal, was it not?"

_Yes, Sesshoumaru-sama. You should try as hard as you can to wait for its advent on this world… I daresay Tokyo, or Osaka, will leave you a few sights to remember…_

The ghost's translucent face dimmed slightly in regret and wistful reminiscence.

_The cherry blossom wind…_

"Return to your rest, Higurashi," Sesshoumaru said, not unkindly, averting his keen gaze from the ghost's unseemly public display of sorrow. One clawed hand closed around Tenseiga's rarely used hilt, gripping firmly. "We shall speak of your daughter anon."

The ghost gracefully slid to one knee in midair, a courtly servant's gesture of allegiance and respect.

_I would be honored, Sesshoumaru-sama. This Higurashi Shinta will await your return._

_----_

A/N: Hehehe. And now we see what exactly Kagome forgot about… and things start falling into place. Kagome's dad, Sesshoumaru and the well… as well as a few other things that required several arrows to explain to myself…

On a side note, the expected story length has gone from 'ten' to 'indefinite', because I finally sat down and hammered out the story skeleton. Argg. Reviews always appreciated!


	5. His And Hers

_Memory's Moon: His and Hers_

--

Inuyasha was not a happy hanyou. He had been recently killed, spent an exceedingly uncomfortable day drifting between this world and the next, been resurrected by one of his least favorite people, and spent a harrowing week looking for Kagome- only to be turned away by her mother. And then the stupid kitsune brat had just jumped to conclusions… as if it was _his_ fault…!

_His_ fault that she had forgotten… his fault that she had been in danger.

_His_ fault that he wanted to see her again… feel her warm acceptance thrum in his soul.

_His_ fault, _everything…?_

_So…Naraku won… after all…?_

"Inuyasha…?" a female voice spoke up uncertainly, making his ears flick in mixed anger and annoyance. The wind was blowing straight in his face- Sango was standing downwind, on _purpose_, a slap in his face because the taijiya _knew_ how he relied on scent to be aware of things and he had been upwind when she was killed and she had deliberately _blinded_ him this way-

"What is it, bitch!" he growled, refusing to whirl around like a startled animal. He would _not_ give her the satisfaction of knowing that her ruse had worked on him. _Bitch bitch bitch bitch…_

He turned around when it seemed that no answer was forthcoming.

Sango peered at him, her face alight with trepidation and one hand firmly on her Hiraikotsu. The reason for her wariness stood limply behind her, one lowered arm and the slight swell of a prepubescent female hip faintly visible behind the taijiya's protectively arranged body.

Rage boiled up in him, thick and black and so strong that he almost patted Tetsusaiga to make sure it was still where it should be. "_Kanna_," he snarled, fingers stiffening in gleeful anticipation of bloodshed. The joints cracked satisfyingly as he flexed them, but it wasn't enough; he wanted flesh under his fingers, a meaty sound of tearing flesh to drown out the disappointment of his unsuccessful trip down the well. Of course he wasn't quite sure if Kanna was meat or just void under the skin- he hadn't gotten close to her before, but he _really_ looked forward to finding out-

"If you lay a hand on her, Inuyasha, I _will_ thump you," Sango said quellingly, crouching slightly in readiness. "She's not here to hurt anything; Naraku's gone. Lay off."

He snarled at her, too.

The pale head poked out from behind its protector, as Kanna took a cautious step forward. "Kanna does not have her mirror," she said softly, holding empty hands out to demonstrate her lack of weapon. "If Inuyasha-sama wants, Kanna will stand upwind."

"Kanna, you're not helping things!" the taijiya snapped, shifting to block Inuyasha's view of Naraku's 'incarnate'. "She came to talk, not to fight, so back _off_!"

Inuyasha's mouth stretched in a fanged smile. "_Make me_."

"If I have to-"

"And here this Sesshoumaru thought you were looking after yourself," Sesshoumaru observed placidly, kicking his half-brother into the ground from behind and grinding the heel of his boot into the red-clothed mass underfoot. "_Really_, you moron, can you not keep yourself out of trouble for more than half a week?"

Sango blinked.

Kanna, uncharacteristically, blinked.

Inuyasha spat curses into the dust.

Pointedly, the inuyoukai stamped down again. "Get up then. This Sesshoumaru wishes to inspect the miko's dwelling."

"Um…" Sango pointed at the boot on the hanyou's back. "Maybe if you stopped stepping on him, Sesshoumaru-sama…"

----

He sped through the woods, weaving between the trees with animal grace, tracking the old trail of her scent as it traced a staggered line across the forest bounds, radiating outwards from the torn desolation of the houshi's final attack. Her desperation and sorrow marked the air in nearly palpable streaks, unfading even with age. They called to him, rousing all the protective instincts of a male with a mate to protect.

And she was _his_, no matter what that arrogant dog-boy might have to say about it.

Still, the path he was following was just a little disturbing… it led directly towards a section of territory (which technically belonged to him) that was actually shunned by all the youkai who usually quarreled jealously over such things. (He only got the territory because he drew the short straw at the meeting.) But, territory aside…

…_this isn't good…_

Even as he ran, his mind fervently repeated _turn away turn away turn away shit shit SHIT_! and went on in that vein for some time as the desecrated village came into view, forcing him to stop at the boundary. He _really_ didn't want to deal with this right now. Even his followers had fallen away some time ago, unable to keep up with his shard-enhanced speed coupled with the impetus of alarm. No comic relief available there- not that comic relief would be appropriate in this situation.

Kagome's scent led here, and then out again, though not in quite the same direction.

So she had come… and fallen prey to the monster sleeping under this ruin.

His lip curled slightly.

No matter.

"Things put to sleep should stay asleep!" he growled at the foreboding ruins, feeling the answering shift of sentient energies in the earth itself as it took note of his brash disapproval; but then he was away before the slap of displeasure came, speeding along the new trail in his quest to find out what had befallen his intended.

----

"…and Saturday! You won't forget Saturday, will you?" Eri fixed her with a tearful glare, hands fisted in the stretching material of her light sweater. Kagome smiled placatingly as her sweater was abused. "You have to come! You know Hojo only comes to parties when you do…"

The blue-eyed teen rolled her eyes discreetly. "Hojo is a pest, Eri. I don't know why you like him."

Another set of hands, Yuka this time, attached themselves to her quickly unraveling sweater. "Well, someone has to! And Hojo was so nice to you when you were ill… if you don't want a guy like that, might as well make sure one of _us_ gets him."

"I don't know why _you_ like him either." Kagome sighed deeply. "Oh, I'm being mean. Who am I to argue?" They grinned at her hopefully. "I'll come. I suppose you two will be 'accidentally' dropping names in his hearing…"

"Too right!" All tears gone, Eri released her friend's sweater, only now noticing what her grip had done to it. "Oops. Sorry. Look- I'll get you another one when we go shopping after school, ok?"

"Mm…" Kagome's gaze flitted briefly to the window and its slice of eternal blue sky. For some reason she kept thinking that a boy in bright red robes should perch on that sill, glowering down at her. "Red," she said suddenly, staring at the empty window. "Bright red…"

Her side felt oddly warm.

----

"Will you be silent and cease your babbling?" Sesshoumaru chided his brother as the hanyou struggled to get free, swearing a blue streak as he did so. "Honestly, has all your courtly upbringing gone out of the proverbial window?"

"PUT ME _DOWN_!"

The inuyoukai surveyed his handiwork almost dreamily. "After all the trouble this Sesshoumaru went through? This Sesshoumaru rather likes you this way. Unable to cause trouble for anyone…"

Kanna, sitting on the edge of the well, exchanged looks with Sango, who sighed and lowered the short blade she was polishing. "Sesshoumaru-sama, I have to agree with you about the not causing trouble part, but trussing him up like a suckling pig for the roast… it's just over the top…"

"Kanna doesn't know about pigs, but Kanna thinks so too."

"Really?" He thoughtfully studied the bound and swearing form of his half-brother. "But if this Sesshoumaru did it any differently, he'd make trouble going down… no, this way is best." He shifted his grip on the back of Inuyasha's haori, hefting the struggling weight easily. "Taijiya, you know your duties- guard the children. Abyss youkai- your place is to the defense and attendance of the old miko. This Sesshoumaru expects to return and find things as they are now- should things be otherwise, there will be Discussions." The narrowing of his magenta-marked eyes indicated the exact nature of such a Discussion. "Understood?"

Sango rolled her eyes and stood. "Yes, _Sesshoumaru-sama._" Kanna slid off the lip of the well, quietly echoing Sango's words with timid deference. "Have a nice trip."

He refused to dignify her veiled sarcasm with an answer, disappearing down the well with his protesting brother in hand. The females watched the familiar flare of blue light flare from the well, and Kanna nodded calmly to herself, shuffling off on her own. Sango watched the well for a moment longer, with a slightly sad smile, before following suit.

----

A/N: This is where things start getting confusing… even though this is a Kag/Sess fic, you really can't ignore IY/K and K/K. So everyone still alive will be making appearances in the course of the story… I promise I'll explain everything as time goes on. Thanks for all the reviews, pple. And of course I'm hoping for more… maybe 20 reviews by the time I get round to posting the next instalment? (nods) Yup. 20 sounds good. Here's to reaching that mark before Chapter 6 comes out…


	6. Somewhere To Belong

_Memory's Moon: Somewhere To Belong_

--

She'd been feeling guilty about chasing Inuyasha away.

He really did care for Kagome, after all- having been the recipient of 'gruff affection' more than once in her youth, she knew that boys were usually pretty mean to females they were fond of- and she knew that her friends on the other side of the well would miss her greatly, especially the little kitsune boy that held a special place in Kagome's affections. Kagome hadn't exactly been in the best of emotional health under the influence of the pressures that accompanied their weighty quest… but as a mother, Takako had _known_ that Kagome belonged there, where magic still ran rampant.

Kagome had been just like her father, really.

Shinta and his magic… the magic that her own father had admired so much… Kagome had never questioned her mother's unfailing acceptance of her 'experiences'. Of their surviving family, only Kagome had forgotten from the start… that magic was nothing new to the Higurashi. Even Souta- blessed from his conception by a loving father- had always known- on some instinctive level- that magic was _real_.

The magic of Shinta's bloodlines had run so strongly in Kagome; Shinta doted outrageously on her. Takako hadn't approved of spoiling their child- _"What if she grows up to be a little princess?"_- but he would get a strange, distant- (almost sad?)- look in his eyes as he ducked his head and smiled a little sheepishly, the boyish mannerism that courtship and marriage had failed to erase.

She still wondered, sometimes, if he had foreseen Kagome's adventures long ago.

And then… on that night of crushing labor pains as she clutched at her father's lined palms and screamed for her beloved… Shinta had vanished without a trace, and Kagome had come running into the birth chamber, more terrified of the monsters outside than of her mother's messy afterbirth, shrieking that the well had eaten her daddy.

After that night, Kagome's magic vanished as if it had never been. She forgot the monster, forgot that her missing daddy had been an onmyouji himself… forgot that magic was real. Takako had tried to preserve the fragile child's world that Shinta had cultivated for his darling doomed daughter, but she gave up eventually. Her aging father was made of sterner stuff; though eventually he too came to see magic as merely something to be capitalized on, _he_ never ceased trying to prick his granddaughter's abilities awake again.

Time passed… then Kagome herself had fallen down the well… and met all her friends…

Takako was guilty, still. She felt horrible for _days_ after sending Inuyasha back down the well...

"Pardon my intrusion."

Her guilty conscience vanished on the wings of outrage and horror as she stared at the tall, regal youkai who stood imposingly in the center of the shrine courtyard, a hog-tied Inuyasha slung casually over his shoulder like an unusually bulky red jacket. Cool, slitted gold eyes pinned her in mid-step, daring her to turn tail and run down the stairs again.

And then the regal demon's gaze flicked sideways, almost nervously, and he gave a very quiet cough. "You will come to no harm by this…one's… hands," he qualified, determinedly glaring at one of the Shinto gate posts. "Neither does this one intend to involve Ka…Kagome."

He was _nervous_.

And hadn't Shinta once told her to simply welcome those who needed rest?

Takako felt her mouth thin at the sensation of nostalgic sorrow as she steeled herself for the harrowing task ahead of her.

"…please do me the honor of taking tea…" Her mouth formed the formal words stiffly, reluctantly.

The youkai inclined his head, gaze sweeping back to her face with almost invisible relief. "As my hostess wills, so it shall be," he replied quietly, and stood aside to let her walk stiltedly past.

Funny that Kagome had never mentioned a youkai like this before…?

----

The well had an impeccable sense of timing, he decided placidly; no sooner had he leapt from its guiding confines and walked into the open space before the large shrine, than Higurashi's wife came up the many flights of stairs that led up to the estate. Inuyasha stiffened and went silent as the woman's scent reached them, making his half-brother frown very slightly.

Higurashi's wife must be a stern woman indeed. Although Higurashi had not described his beloved in quite a way, Sesshoumaru was familiar with time's inevitable changes upon humans. For a mere human to intimidate a hanyou in such a way… either Inuyasha was more of a puppy than his age might suggest, or she had thoroughly dominated the discussion. Both were equally likely…

And the stiff dignity with which she conducted herself as she guided him into her cramped living space… indicated that Inuyasha's discomfort stemmed from the latter rather than the former reason. Every move she made screamed her reluctance, her desire for him to be out of her place as soon as humanly (or inhumanly, as the case may be) possible. Her posture also strongly suggested that the only thing that prevented her from taking a broom to his head was the ages-old tradition of guesting courtesy.

He grimaced inwardly. _Higurashi, you didn't say she was so… _hostile_. You said she was a 'sweet, tender beauty'…_

Not that hostility would have prevented him from carrying out the duties entrusted to him.

"You stay there and be quiet," he murmured sternly at his half-brother as the hanyou came to rest gently beside the closed door, prompting Inuyasha to give a subdued (and somewhat worrying) nod of the head. The miko's estrangement must have affected him more strongly than his earlier manner might suggest.

Hm.

The 'tea' she made was a strange, bitter stuff, quite similar to the plain green tea that was commonly drunk in teahouses, but with the fragrance of jasmine flowers. It was not, strictly speaking, the kind of tea one served for such an august occasion as this, and he was well within his rights to kill her for her miserly courtesy, but Higurashi deserved this little mercy, even if his wife did not appear to be worthy of that clemency.

Nevertheless, not wishing to spend any more time here in this hovel than he absolutely needed to, he cut straight to the point as soon as the basic courtesies had been observed. "I have a message for you from your husband." She froze, tea sloshing out of the mug that slid out of suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter onto the soiled tablecloth before her.

When the woman spoke, it was with a brittle hope lilting through her voice. "Shinta… is alive? Did he fall down the well too?"

_Is he going to come home?_

Sesshoumaru felt no remorse at dashing her hopes; rather, the sadness that darkened his citrine gaze was regret for the man who had once been a close friend to a very young pup. "It was the last words of a man facing death," he said quietly, and sipped his tea as tears scented the air, a low moaning keen escaping his hostess. Her grief, like Shinta's, was raw and too private to be displayed, so he studied the bitter green liquid while she composed herself to hear her mate's parting words, echoing through the ages, undiminished by the proxy who carried it to her.

Gradually the moaning sound faded, though a hoarse undertone abraded the edges of his hearing in rhythm with her pained breaths. She rubbed defiantly at her tear-stained face with one palm in a curiously childlike motion, then her gaze, bright with unshed moisture, shot up to meet his own. "I… Can you tell me what happened to him?"

Briefly, the Lord considered baring the privacies of his past to this crass human woman. It was a very personal experience that he had kept secret for a large part of his centuries-long lifespan, and she had only the most modest right to ask such a thing of him…

…but that right- the right of a bereaved mate- was something even youkai honored.

He inclined his head. "The tale is a long one, best left to a more opportune moment. First the message… and if Kagome does not return, I will begin it."

Her head jerked as if she had been stung. "Kagome! You should go- she'll be back any moment now…"

He needed no further urging; the rank air of this time grated on his senses. "I take my leave," he murmured quickly, snatching up his brother as he passed the door and briskly glided back to the well-house. The miko's scent was strong in that place, ingrained with her recent comings and goings, as well as the scent of her blood long dried into the wood of the ancient structure.

The wind sighed around him as he shut the shoji door; it carried an echo of his name, but he paid it no heed. After all, Kagura's spirit might yet flow on its eternal currents; he often thought she might still guard him, no matter whence he might walk in his journeys through the changing years.

For a heartbeat, he inhaled deeply, storing the miko's scent indelibly into the recesses of his memory; something told him that he might not return to this place for quite some time. After a moment's thought, he gave his half-brother a firm shake. "Memorize the miko's scent," he said shortly, almost commandingly. "If you live this long, you might meet her again when you are ready."

And then he leapt between worlds, and the well slammed shut in his wake.

----

She stood at the crest of the many stairs, staring at the improbable sight of an ash-blond man dressed in ancient warlike fashion with armor and weaponry, carrying a bright red bundle over his shoulder, cross her courtyard in swift, graceful strides. Something stirred in her heart, a flickering shadow of recognition behind shrouding veils of magic and steel.

"Sesshou…maru?" Her lips formed the words, but the thought fled as quickly as the gust of wind that snatched her words away, and she was left alone in the empty courtyard, wondering what she had stopped to admire; there was nothing but the familiar shrine and its attached structures stretching before her eyes.

Kagome shook her head, smiling ruefully, and continued walking towards her home. "Springtime must be making me silly..." Her free hand plucked at her new red sweater, stretching the loosely woven material. "I don't even like red…"

----

A/N: I guess 20 reviews was a little much to ask, huh. Ah, well. There'll be plenty of chapters yet for me to be for reviews anyway… or is this really as trashy as I think it is?


	7. A Dream Of Swords

_Memory's Moon: A Dream Of Swords_

--

"_Oi, Kikyou, shoot her! Just like you shot me…_"

_Is this a dream?_

_No- The voice is too real to be a dream and her legs hurt with the sharp burn of exhaustion. She's been running, running away from something with fangs and pincers and sharp claws, pale skin and an ancient smile that beckons back to the time humans first learnt to fear the darkness. Dark hair in the wind, a knowing dark gaze burning into her back as she runs and runs and runs-_

"_You're making a worse deal than Onigumo ever made, you know…"_

_Steel lies solid in her hands and she raises it with desperate strength, unable to release the burning blade; it bursts into pearly incandescence, casting pulsing sheets of moonshine over a serene, intent face, the mirror of her own but aged and twisted with awful wisdom. Calm velvet-brown eyes watching her with mingled loneliness and pity, the pink jewel in her hands fading into ashes and flame._

"_He chose you."_

_It hurts everywhere, the moonshine darkening to rich magenta, the color flowing under her skin and seething in her very bones. The sword in her hands still drags her upright, pointed skywards like a lightning rod in reverse, an eternal pillar of fire against an equally eternal dusk sky. Dusk… the color of a priest's somber robes, golden shakujou describing a shining arc through the air, dark eyes bright with false gaiety and a bone-deep acceptance of life's inevitable conclusion. _

"_Life is too short to be serious all the time, Kagome-sama…"_

_Magenta darkens to black, the flowing tresses of a huntress with open, honest eyes, a sad smile and slow tears. The huntress crouches in the darkness, poised to strike, yet those battle-scarred hands make little children laugh… _

"_Even though I know he's dead… I can't let him go-"_

_Dead?_

_Death is lying in a noxious meadow, bound by imp's chains and watching the reflection of a faceless woman embrace a young, pale-haired boy. Death is walking through a village of butchered humans- death is kneeling in a thicket, staring up at an upraised sickle-blade with mingled desperation and defiance- death is so many things that slip away from memory like fallen heads of dead camellia from a wilting shrub, beyond the shine of swords in the air and clawed hands reaching for her._

"_Just get out of the way! I'll protect you if that's what it takes-"_

_A princely pale man with only one arm, facing down a snarling youkai who had once been her friend- who still was her friend- calm and assured; that hand resting on the dark head of a tiny human girl, never sparing the child a glance, yet unswerving in its care and hidden affection. Blazing gold eyes tinting crimson with anger- those same eyes studying herself almost dismissively as he left the youkai subdued in the dust, the stronger of the two brothers who could have been twins but for the harsh disparity of their souls._

"_There is something this Sesshoumaru wished to ascertain…"_

_A warm hand, heartbreakingly familiar, lying comfortingly on her head; she _knows_ this hand from somewhere, a hand that touched her many times before, part of a pair that held her child's body and told her that the worst demons in the world could never harm her. Warm hands joined to a warm heart, warm heart to warm eyes of deep drowning blue. Eyes that gazed at her one last time as the familiar hands urgently thrust her up the wooden steps, out of the wellhouse and toward the shrine itself, turning away to face the malignancy that burst from the well like pus from a lanced boil._

"_Run, Ka-chan! Tell your mother I love her-"_

_The darkness collapsing into the well, the familiar person dragged along with it as time rewound and restarted behind her retreating back, the well sealed with wood and sacred paper as if a youkai had not reached forth from its depths. She remembered him now, the laughing man with sad eyes who had proven his loyalty to her family by leaving them._

"_Dad…dy?"_

----

She opened blurry eyes to stare unseeingly at the familiar cream ceiling, still transfixed by the flashing images that danced in her vision, a waking dream so real that it might as well have been memory.

Memory.

_Daddy._

"Daddy," she mumbled out loud, sitting up in twilight's uncertain half-light to rub at grit in her eyes. The dream had been so real, so vivid in her mind's eye… but wouldn't she have remembered something like that happening? "Mama said you went far away…"

Sleep had fled her now; instead of fruitlessly lying down again, she wandered downstairs in search of something to drink, and maybe a cracker to munch on. Her feet patted the wooden boards underfoot softly- even in the shadowy murkiness of the unlighted house, she had walked this path ever since she was old enough to have her own room, and her feet knew the way.

"_Ka-chan, don't you think flying would be a wonderful thing to do?"_

She stumbled, barely catching herself with a shoulder pressed to the wall.

"_I'll tell you a secret, okay? Daddy's not a priest…"_

Suddenly the air seemed crushing, forcing her to gasp for breath as her heart pounded in her ribs like a panicked animal and lurched like it was trying to dig its way out of her chest.

"_Funny, huh? That a person married into a shrine family is better friends with youkai…"_

"Daddy…" The word crawled out of her mouth in a near-soundless whine of pain, wept into her knees as she curled up around the source of her pain and tried to will the agony away. "Daddy, come back… I need you…"

"_Ka-chan… remember that daddy's always with you. Always…"_

The warm touch on her forehead soothed her, and she barely registered a fine-boned knuckle softly brushing her painful tears away, her mind slipping into the depths of oblivion's inky waters.

"…_no matter what form I take… I'll always be with you."_

----

----

Why had he returned to the miko's shrine?

After the well had refused to open for him once more, even with Inuyasha's unwilling presence, he had gone back to his ancient duties, once more the Ruling Lord of the Western Lands, taking his unruly half-brother with him. Kanna followed because she had no other master, and Shippou for the same reason. The taijiya had stayed behind to protect Inuyasha's former territory, and the changing seasons had eventually carried her away on their inexorable tides, the same fate that every other human fell prey to.

The years had passed, his territory had remained immovable, and Inuyasha had… well, it was too much for even he to expect his feral sibling to regain some semblance of courtly manners in the short span of a few hundred years- his youth had ensured that his nature would forevermore be crass and rough but unswervingly loyal. That last part was all that redeemed Inuyasha in his eyes, but to inuyoukai- who, as a whole, valued loyalty above all else- it was the greatest thing one could hope for, where the half-human pup had failed in all else.

So he had kept his trusted vassals close to him- Jaken was getting on in years, even for a youkai, and toads were not blessed with particularly long lifespans anyway- and tried not to care that he _was_ starting to care for them, even Shippou and Kanna. Out of all the youkai who served him, those two were perhaps the youngest, but their duality bound them together like fire and ice, making them a force to be reckoned with as the years passed and the kitsune grew into his own.

The years passed, slow as a glacier and as fleeting as a heartbeat. The humans grew in strength, cunning and number, forcing the youkai to retreat farther and farther behind barriers of magic as it became apparent that the time of youkai supremacy was over- for a time, at least.

Personally he didn't think the human rule would last more than a thousand years or so- they always managed to fight, breed, or sicken themselves down to a reasonable number over the course of a few centuries- but, instead of following his brethren into their artificially created world to wait out the human era, he chose instead to fade into the human crowds, studying the peoples who had once been his prey. Inuyasha, Shippou, Kanna, and a few of his more loyal (and curious) vassals- including one of Inuyasha's peers, an insufferably brash, rude ookamiyoukai called Kouga- had, according to their proven loyalties, remained to serve him despite the fact that he paid them nothing but recognition for their efforts.

Well, Kouga and Inuyasha hardly _served_- they usually stayed as far from him as possible- but they had a habit of popping up and offering ill-timed advice when he least desired it, so he shelved them under the caption of 'idiot advisory committee', which was just about all the advisors he'd had up to date. Hmph. Idiots, the lot of them.

In any case, he simply holed himself up as 'the rich eccentric hermit' and let his vassals do as they pleased. Of course, Shippou and Kanna instantly gravitated towards the Higurashi Shrine; they contented themselves with bringing him reports of how the family was getting on, the images flowing through Kanna's mirror, lives condensed into hours of moving pictures.

He watched the humans' lives, and his empty heart ached when Shinta came into them.

Laughing, sad-eyed Shinta, the rootless onmyouji without a last name, the man who carried a tiny two-tailed kitten in his battered bomber jacket, the man who had fallen in love with a younger Takako. The human magic-man who had been dragged back in time, farther back than his daughter had ever fallen, to a time when Sesshoumaru was still a shaggy-haired young pup tugging at the billowing folds of his sire's hakama. The human who had befriended that young pup and his sire, and fallen afoul of the pup's dam in one of the worst ways possible.

The time blinked by in his unhurried solitude while he watched Shinta and his new mate and the tiny bumbling form of the girl-child Shinta had entrusted unto him, reflections on Kanna's mirror and Shippou's excited chatter. The kitsune, upon discovering that the miko had finally been born, had been childishly and outlandishly _bouncy_ ever since- his lord disapproved, as he disapproved of many things in this time, but made no protest except for a grumpy, half-hearted reprimand when the bouncing grew too ecstatic.

So onward the time passed, more quickly now, as he counted the years until Shinta would fall through the well and meet himself.

----

_The morning sun was a sweet burn upon his face as the lord once again walked the human lands, albeit in a rather pitiful-looking human form- or at least so it appeared to him. His arm had grown back, among other things; it had returned when he had finally passed the last test and become a taiyoukai like his revered sire. Or perhaps Tenseiga had taken it upon itself to 'help'. Pesky thing, never acting as it should. The gentle mischief of his sire's soul lived on in this blade, just as its fierce loyalty had survived in Tetsusaiga. Toutousai had indeed done a better job than the late Inutaishou might have hoped._

_The Shrine had lain open to him, a taiyoukai no less deadly for the lounging kimono he wore- Shinta's footprints were all over this place. Ever skilled, the onmyouji had keyed the shrine's wards to that of ill intent, so Sesshoumaru had free entry- but the well itself was within the shields, which had been Shinta's one unfortunate error. _

_Tenseiga, hidden along his spine in the thick folds of his overrobe, pulsed softly as he approached the towering tree that had endured throughout centuries of changing time. With as bloodied a history as it had experienced, the lord was vaguely surprised to touch it and sense the tree's spirit sleeping within, as pure as that of an untainted spring's. The presence of the miko and the Shikon no Tama, no doubt. Even a child of her potential, carrying a gem such as that within her body… the purifying aura spread for miles, soothing discontent and keeping the resident energies pure. Probably it was the reason why this was such a crime-free part of Tokyo, he mused to himself as he removed his hand from the Goshinboku. _

_The scream of a female in labor split the peaceful silence, making him scowl slightly as it shrilled directly into his sensitive ears through layers of wood, brick and shoji. Higurashi's mate had gone into labor, then. He settled his shoulder against the holy tree meditatively, watching the distant wellhouse whilst the female's screams continued. Soon enough, the girl-child came scurrying out before her sire, both eager to escape the messy and potentially dangerous business of childbirth. _

_He unashamedly feasted his eyes upon the sight of his old friend, and somewhat grudgingly accorded the girl-child the same intense scrutiny. At least she was fairly easy on the eyes, even at that painfully tender age; there was some promise there, hidden under scraped bare knees and tangled dusty hair, of the passably attractive young miko she would become. Certainly the bright blue eyes, a glowing replica of her father's own cerulean gaze, gave no doubt that even should she turn out less than expected, males would be attracted to her by sheer force of personality alone._

_Except himself, of course. She was his ward, not a proper youkai female. In any case, he was old enough to be the master of his wants and desires by now, and a dirty little three-year-old was certainly not on his list of attractive females. He dismissed her with a mental sniff and concentrated hard on the well, which was beginning to resonate to his sharp senses like the distant tolling of a warning bell. Predictably, the girl skipped right into the wellhouse, her hassled-looking father in tow. Stupid human._

_It happened in a rush of jaki, over within the space of a few breaths, then Shinta's blazing presence disappeared from his range and the little girl-child came running out, crying as the wellhouse filled with incandescent moonshine._

_With a sudden, crystalline clarity, he knew why he had returned to the miko's shrine to watch the passing of his friend through the ages._

_Tenseiga's gentle pulse throbbed against his spine as he effortlessly slipped behind the fleeing child and swiftly touched a blunted humanoid finger to her bared neck. The spell sank into her like a carefully dropped stone into a still pool, coming to rest quietly until such time as it would be free to do its work and erase the miko's recollection of her sire. Her magic would probably vanish as well- that part of her came not from her shrine lineage but from Shinta's own dubious bloodlines- but a large enough shock, such as the one Inuyasha had recollected to him (of their first meeting), would bring it back again._

_The past had already happened. _

_He slipped from the shrine grounds like one of the wraiths of yore, heading back to his isolated dwelling with all the speed he could muster. _

_----_

Shinta had come and gone, just as he remembered. The years continued their halting march, the miko's destiny unfolding just as it should, completely without further interference from those who already knew what would come to pass. He banned all his companions from frequenting her commune, once she first crossed the barrier between times; a single misstep would be all that was needed to completely wreck centuries of meticulous planning.

And he waited.

Waited until he grew weary of waiting and, one spring evening, ventured out alone and unnoticed, to visit the miko's den while she yet slumbered innocently with the rest of her kin.

_Mistake._

The grounds were void of life, but a familiar scent lay fresh upon them, the imprint of a presence that had not been there for years.

_Mistake!_

He entered the residence with ease, looking around warily for some clue, any clue, of how Shinta's scent could be fresh here, even if Oborezuki had come to find a resting place in this shrine. It only took the faintly glowing mist-figure standing at the top of the stairs to tell him how it could be possible.

The shikigami that Shinta had managed to maintain, even bereft of his human form… it was _here_, and it had Shinta's face, and spoke with Shinra's voice, and smiled Shinta's smile, gazing at him with Shinta's sad, wise cerulean eyes.

"…_no matter what form I take… I'll always be with you."_

He leapt easily up the stairs, the shikigami vanishing into mist and shadows as his fingers brushed through it. The girl-child Kagome crouched in the corner where floor met wall, curled up like a crushed insect, the scent of pain and tears strong on her as he knelt to observe her better in the darkness.

It was wrong, somehow, that the miko who had once threatened his very life with bow and arrow should look so… pitiful.

His large hand touched her head as it had done so long ago with Rin, giving some measure of unconscious comfort, causing her to stiffen a little, then relax onto her bent knees. And then the little minx had the audacity to _fall asleep _in her awkward position, landing him with the incongruous task of getting her safely back to bed where she belonged.

Scowling, he brushed the tears from her face with a gentle knuckle and muttered the one vulgarity that Inuyasha had managed to pass onto him.

"Feh."

----

A/N: This is getting confusing, writing from two POVs… and yet it seems a little too cliché to be writing in 'deus ex machina' mode. Bleh… And thanks for all the wonderful reviews- it was a chapter late, but I broke 20 reviews! Hehehe. Much thanks to _are-en1_- I like reviews like that, masochistic me. And, since everyone was kind enough to review, I'm going to include a thank-you list here, too. See you next chapter, guys!

_Kage Bi Koori _(I enjoy getting reviews from you although it essentially seems like the same review redux…?)

_Raptor – X1_

_DocBevCulver_

_fancomingthru_ (Guess you figured out how to post on ffnet, huh?)

_c_

_Clouds of the Sky_

_Kitsune Kit_

_are-en1 _(C'est la vie, oh well. All authors are greedy- why else do we always write 'R&R pls' somewhere in our chapters? )

_darkflame1516 _(Another lovely review! Thanks. It's not the grammar I'm worried about though- it's the plot that bothers me, like it isn't turning out quite right… (shrugs))

_thatvoiceinyourheadmusicwrter JediK1_

Thank you for being supportive of this, my very first Inuyasha fanfic…


	8. Again And Again

_Memory' Moon: Again And Again_

--

He hadn't meant to give her a place in his heart.

In his thoughts, perhaps, but his heart?

How does someone take up residence in a heart that isn't there?

"Sesshoumaru-sama!"

The sheer _cheeriness_ of the kitsune's eternally youthful voice, thankfully not as high-pitched as it had been in his second century, was nevertheless enough to grate on his already frayed nerves- especially since it was about the seventh evening hour and he had been plagued all day, ever since he returned from the shrine, with thoughts of self-castigation over the odd attachment he now harbored towards the miko. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know," he said in a level voice, inordinately proud of his self-control. "Remove your presence from my sight- at least until the tenth hour. Go!"

Eyes the color of fresh spring grass twinkled at him impiously. "_Buuuuut, Sesshoumaru-sama!_" Shippou whined loudly, skipping around as if he had too much joy in his veins to _not_ bounce off the walls. If youkai had been susceptible to the lures of human drugs, the lord would have ordered an immediate purging of his household, but the kitsune's eternal enthusiasm was, sadly, a product of his effervescent personality, and could not be 'cold turkey'ed out of him. "You'll never guess who I met today at my shop! Guess!"

He didn't _need_ to guess. The fox reeked of her pure scent as if he had rolled in a field of mint that smelled of her. "Did the miko recognize you?" he inquired distantly, and tried not to hope that she did. Her part in his humdrum existence was over, after all. Except for a shard here and there, sleeping in the farthest reaches of Japan as they had been so far content to do, she had nothing more to do with them, _any_ of them, no matter what that fool ookami might think to presume. The duty that Shinta had entrusted to him- first to the guardianship of his daughter's destiny, and secondly to his estranged mate- well, they would have to wait until he felt like approaching their damnable household again.

Shippou bounced to a halt before his lord and cocked his head, eyes oddly piercing as if he could read his master's mind. Which the little devil probably _could_, given that he was usually privy to Sesshoumaru's moods and had been tirelessly worrying at the tangled puzzle of the inuyoukai's mentality ever since he was a kit barely fifty years old, over five hundred years past. "Nooooo." But the laughter remained in his eyes. "Of course she wouldn't. It's been so long- and Inuyasha did say she forgot everything anyway… that's fine by me, 'Kaasan's still 'Kaasan. How about you, Sesshoumaru-sama?" he inquired slyly, giving up all pretense of being cute in favor of needling his lord.

'His lord' was not amused. "And why would I want the miko to remember me?"

A finger waggled imprudently in the air, dangerously close to his nose. "Be-_cause_! You've been waiting for her all this time, haven't you? If not, you wouldn't have stayed here with the rest of us-"

He slapped the offending digit away none too gently, scowling thunderously. "I remained here with the pathetic lot of you," he spat, "because you would have gotten yourselves in trouble otherwise, being the morons you are. There is _no other reason_."

It didn't sound very convincing even to himself, and Shippou's grin never wavered- if anything, it grew in size until it looked as if someone had slit the corners of his mouth to allow his muscles to stretch so widely. "If you say so, Sesshoumaru-sama," the kitsune said cheekily, stuck the injured finger into his mouth, and bounced out, still grinning.

For some time, there was silence, blessed silence. But Sesshoumaru's tense shoulders did not relax; there was still one other in the room, who never left until her part was done.

"…Kanna thinks so too," the familiar quiet voice spoke up finally, and the abyss youkai walked unhurriedly out, for once not offering to show him images of the Higurashi household as she normally did.

Even the _pups_ were turning on him now.

He smoothed his scowl away with impatient fingers, struggling to regain some semblance of his fabled self-control. Unfortunately, having to carry the miko to her bed and sooth her all the while had shot it all to hell- he would not be asserting any of his self-control anytime soon.

Who knew that a little girl-child, teetering on the cusp of womanhood, could effect so deadly a poison upon his immovable spirit? Her presence spread like sweet sickness through his thoughts, until he was plagued with thoughts of her throughout the day. As it was, he dared not sleep for fear of allowing less dispassionate thoughts to lure him into impropriety.

"Oi, inuyarou!"

The Lord of the Western Lands lowered his hand from his temples, thin lips stretching in a cruel smile.

"_Kouga_."

What a _perfect_ distraction.

----

"You went and mouthed off to Sesshoumaru again? Damn, yaseookami, I thought you learnt your lesson the _last_ time!" Inuyasha greeted his long-time rival less than graciously as he strode into the den-like room with its tribal furnishings, where Kouga had retreated to lick his wounds in peace.

The 'yaseookami' in question growled irritably at the hanyou who had sunk himself into a comfortable seiza position on a stray mound of furs. "I was going to ask him about my woman, kuso inukoro! How was I supposed to know he'd be in such a shitty mood?" Kanna 'accidentally' yanked the bandage she was tying, face blandly innocent as if she hadn't just made the wolf ex-prince yelp like a singed pup. "Yow! Don't _do_ that, wench!"

She 'accidentally' yanked again, making him wince. Those deceptively delicate hands were _strong_, even for a youkai. "A sufficiently tight bandage is required for optimum effect," she murmured calmly, fixing the knot with practiced ease. "In any case, did Shippou not tell you all you wished to know about Kagome-sama?"

Fangs caught the light in an unhappy snarl that lifted lips from teeth. "He didn't tell me anything worth knowing. But the brat said that the inuyarou would know…" Inuyasha gave him a dubious look as he crouched in a spill of baggy cargo pants and loose shirt, shorn pale hair falling in sharp straight ragged locks around his centuries-aged face. Even for hanyou, who aged slightly faster than full youkai, age was a slow thing, and five hundred years had added depth, not lines, to his eternally youthful countenance. But the sudden bedevilment in his tawny eyes held all the centuries he had experienced, and Kouga's burning azure eyes were quick to take offense. "OI! Stop looking at me like that, ugly mutt," the wolf snarled, baring still-sharp white teeth again, only to twitch sharply as Kanna slathered neutralizing salve onto a large burn on his shoulder.

"Sesshoumaru knowing anything about Kagome? The wimp hasn't been out of this house ever since he took a walk a dozen years ago." The hanyou's nose wrinkled slightly at the memory- or it might have been the pungent scent of the salve reacting loudly with the acid-poison in Kouga's wounds. "That's, like, the only time he's ever been out of here. His only window to the world is Kanna's mirror- like he'd know more than _she_ does!" Inuyasha chuckled darkly. "Shippou was shitting you out, yaseookami. Go and smack him for information."

Lowering his gaze with a suddenly pensive frown, Kouga sighed loudly. "Ehhh. Go and take a sniff at the inuyarou, inukoro. You might be surprised… he's been getting out recently. At night." Inuyasha gave him an unwillingly revolted look. "Not rutting, but definitely at night, and… you gotta go smell him yourself."

When it looked as if no further gossip would be forthcoming, Inuyasha flowed to his feet, the punk chains attached to his cargo pants clinking softly. "Feh, fine," he growled, and stomped out, muttering about stupid wolf youkai and equally stupid older half-brothers.

With a distinctly amused air, though there was no change in her serene expression, Kanna picked up a fresh roll of adhesive bandage and pointed imperiously. He rolled onto his stomach without comment, utterly unselfconscious despite his lack of clothing; she had been tending full-body wounds for a long time, longer than he had known her. If Sesshoumaru trusted her to not read too much into an intimate touch, then he, Kouga, could do the same. "Hey, kazaananoko," he said meditatively into the soft darkness, feeling her small hands paste sticky bandage on the fading slash marks over his back. "Tell me again. How is she now?"

Kanna's small smile, out of sight where he could not see, was more felt than seen.

"She is… happy."

----

_There was something she had forgotten._

"Mama," she said plaintively, and watched her mother's shoulders tense. "What aren't you telling me?"

_Something important._

"There's nothing that I'm telling you that you need to know," the woman said quietly, almost sadly, not turning around from where she was preparing daikon at the sink for soup. "Trust mama on this, dear."

_Someone important._

"How about Daddy?" she pressed, not quite succeeding in quashing the hurt whine in her voice. "Don't I need to know?"

Didn't she need to care when people passed her by and in the crowd there would be a flash of joyous recognition, like the emerald-eyed boy who had given her free chocolates yesterday? She _wanted_ to care. She wanted to know why she wanted to care. She _needed_ to know what they saw in her- what they had known about her, and why her heart screamed for her not to forget, not to forget…

_Someone she didn't want to forget._

Her mother almost hunched, the knife sliding lifelessly on the chopping board with a soft rustle of flat blade against heavy wood. "If you know about Daddy," Takako almost whispered, "then you know everything you need to know. I can't tell you what you want to hear."

_Someone she had left behind anyway._

"I had a dream," Kagome said, and stood with a rustle of cushion and jeans.

_No._

"Kagome-"

_They had left her behind, hadn't they?_

"I have to go to school."

_Hadn't they?_

Her side burned as she fled into Tokyo's seething people-filled embrace, and the moisture in her eyes might have been moonshine made real.

----

A/N: Writing this felt a little… surreal. The timeline was ok- K comes after S, take it chronologically, I dropped a large hint in there and gave it its own paragraph- but I seem to be jumping writing styles like no one's business. (winces) Maybe I'll improve with time?

--

Ok. Translations for the terms I synthed or borrowed from the manga/anime:

Inuyarou- dog bastard (because inukoro was already reserved for Inu, Kouga tagged Sess with a 'step up' from puppy….)

Yaseookami- wimpy wolf

Kuso inukoro- damned puppy

Seiza- (not really a name) The kneeling thing Japanese people do, resting their weight on their lower calves. (FYI, that's what I always see K's family doing; in the first book, there's a picture; their home has a traditional low table, not the high Western style ones.)

Kazaananoko- 'Air Rip Girl' (Or, taken the other way… 'Child of the Wind Hole (ie Abyss)'; in other words, Kouga tagged Kanna with a literal name. )

--

Kouga's my man for introducing witty names into the IY Ficverse. Hehehehe. Cower.


	9. I Will Always Return To You

_Memory's Moon: I Will Always Return To You_

--

She never did make it to school, because she'd left her bag and all her stuff at home and it hurt to admit that she _had_ to go back home, so she skipped her lectures and just walked, aimlessly.

Being here like this, alone and unnoticed, was actually sort of comforting. In a city of millions, nobody cared if you were ordinary- there were a lot of ordinary people. Nobody cared if you were just a little different- there were lots of people more wildly different than you. Nobody cared that you didn't have a direction, nobody cared if you just wanted to walk and see the sights, so to speak.

So she walked and walked and let her feet guide her where they wished. And, sure enough- as if a magnet had drawn her back here- she found herself standing outside the candy store where the green-eyed shopkeeper worked. It felt strangely familiar to be standing outside this place… there was a subtle sort of feel about it-

"…oi, woman-" A callused male hand waved in front of her face, and she jerked back in embarrassment at spacing out in the middle of the walkway. But the young man who had startled her only gave a short barking laugh of amusement, his blue eyes watching her amiably. "You gonna go in or stare at the chocolates from here?"

Kagome stared at him, face burning scarlet with mortification. "Ahh… I'm sorry!" she babbled, turned tail, and fled.

----

"Damn," Kouga murmured softly, thumping his forehead against the display window lightly. Seeing his woman after more than five centuries of waiting… was strange, strange that he hadn't felt the leaping of his spirit that she had inspired in his youth. He still remembered the nearly unbearable yearning that had drawn him to her time and time again, as fresh as if she had breathed that wild desire into his lungs only a moment ago, but…

…but the times had turned… and he had… changed…

And then… and then…

_And then it ended…?_

"Kouga-kun?" Shippou was calling through the muffling glass, emerald eyes dark with a terribly calm understanding, and the ookami turned his head a minute fraction to acknowledge the speaking of his name.

She had changed. He had changed. They had all changed.

_Then it ended._

"Damn, no wonder the inuyarou didn't want to talk," he muttered, straightening and brushing an absent hand through his slightly flattened bangs.

_Ended._

"Kagome…"

_Goodbye…_

----

She was lost.

Completely, hopelessly, totally lost. Embarrassed out of her mind.

She felt _pathetic._

Kagome thumped her forehead against a convenient lamp-post, rested against the cool smooth pole, and thumped again for good measure. And again, because she really felt silly and stupid. She was working her way up to a sizable red mark between her brows, when a somewhat grimy hand interposed itself between the lamp-post and her head, clasping firmly to the skin with the faint traction of half-formed calluses.

"Pretty girls shouldn't deface themselves," the stranger said mildly, pushing her forehead back gently. "Didn't your mother teach you anything?" She blinked and scrambled back with a yelp, away from the lamp post, away from the stranger with short, wavy black hair and strangely ancient, depthless, black eyes.

She seemed to be meeting a lot of strangers nowadays…

"Um… Thanks…" She wasn't quite sure what she was thanking him for, but it was a reasonably appropriate thing to say while she wondered who exactly _this_ person was. Certainly he looked ordinary enough, a typical delinquent-esque young man in a grayish t-shirt that had probably started life white, in fraying jeans, equally frayed denim jacket ripped short a few inches above the hem of his dingy t-shirt, and worn, well-used sneakers. If not for the obvious lack of a backpack over his shoulder she would have pegged him for a homeless juvie, but there was… something… in his knowing gaze that told her he wasn't homeless.

He cocked his head at her, raising an eyebrow as she completed her inspection. "Do I remind you of someone?" he said lightly, and grinned, flashing perfect, oddly even white teeth.

Kagome felt herself flush red enough to conceal the redness on her forehead. "No!"

"Oh. But I know you…"

_I know you-_

But he was a stranger. She seemed to be meeting a lot of familiar strangers lately… wait.

He knew her? "You do?" she said, perplexed, and frowned thoughtfully at the scruffy-looking young man. Nothing stirred in her memory, nothing at all. "Where from?"

The stranger smiled at her airily, bouncing on the soles of his scruffed footwear. "Hmm… Maybe not. Maybe you just remind me really strongly of someone that I knew once. While we're at it, do you want me to introduce myself?"

She stared at him, torn between laughing, crying, and running away screaming. He was a stranger! Did she really want him to be a stalker or a pervert too? "…um…?" she said uncertainly, compromising by taking a slow step backwards.

"My name is Rakuen. I'm a ronin…" He spun around gracefully, arms spread. "I wander around. You?"

Rakuen. Something about that name… "My name is Kagome…"

"Kagome." His grin wavered slightly, and she blinked as the tiny flinch passed, leaving her wondering if he suffered from a tic at the corner of his mouth, or had the name conjured some painful memories of someone else with the same name? "That's a lovely name. A lovely name for a pretty girl. Fitting. Maybe I'll see you around, Kagome-san… sometime." He spun again, skipping lightly in place on the pavement, his feet tapping the ground as if impatient to be away. "Tokyo's a pretty small place, after all."

"Uh… yeah…"

With one last dazzling white grin, he grabbed her hands in an energetic parody of a handshake, let go, and trotted briskly down the street, occasionally dancing from side to side in brief, joyous bursts. Kagome watched him go, struck suddenly by a sense that this Rakuen, whoever he was, seemed… _right_. He acted like he was pumped on Ecstasy, but there was just something about him that said, louder than words, that he was… _honest. Sincere._ More at peace with the world than most adults were.

_Rakuen… _

'_Paradise'…_

Soft paper crackled in her hands as she opened them to find the crumpled ten-thousand-yen note that he had pressed between her palms, and she was distantly startled to find herself crying without knowing why.

----

He watched her life in fast-forward from Kanna's mirror, chin propped on the heel of his palm in unconsciously feigned boredom, as he had done so many times before.

The argument with her mother, her flight from her home, her wanderings in the city… Even in the darkness with no one but Kanna to see, he smirked a little. If nothing else, the girl-child was… entertaining.

Trust the miko to dash out unprepared and still have nothing untoward befall her. A small part of it was thanks to Oborezuki's lingering protections upon her person; most of it, however, was her own power, combined with the amplifying effect of the Shikon no Tama within her. Even incomplete, it was still a powerful artifact- and, in any case, the jewel itself now recognized the need to protect its chosen bearer. Kagome was probably the luckiest human alive, accident-wise.

_Shinta_, the lord mused with wry reminiscence, _Shinta would have been proud._

The images flowing through Kanna's mirror slowed briefly.

Her stop in front of Shippou's candy shop, the look in her eyes distant, teetering on the edge of realization. Kouga's 'timely' interruption. The ookami always did have the worst sense of timing. Or best… depending on whose side you were on. Sesshoumaru, who was always on his own side in any case, was firmly of the opinion that Kouga's lousy sense of timing was a very good thing indeed. The farther away the miko was from realizing what Oborezuki had taken from her, the better.

Ah… so the ookami had sense, after all… letting the miko go without trying to declare his undying love or some such unseemly nonsense. At least Kouga had used his brains for once… or something. Sesshoumaru disliked the thought that his vassals might be something less than intelligent. Far more elegant to say, they _were_ intelligent. It was simply rare for them to actually show it… sometimes he felt like the only adult in a sea of puppies… and heavy, so heavy, with the duty that Higurashi had entrusted to him in the shape of a powerful, fragile, unattainable young girl-child-warrior.

Her very struggles made him feel weak, for he could do nothing while Oborezuki and the Shikon no Tama warred for control of her destiny.

And if Sesshoumaru hated anything- even more than having to admit that his half-brother was not, in fact, a blathering idiot, despite the hanyou's appalling lack of self-control- it was this sensation of weakness, of not being able to further his wishes in any direct fashion.

_Of not being able to protect her-_

A vein under his jaw throbbed as his teeth ground together.

"Kanna," he said suddenly.

The images froze.

"I tire of this. You are dismissed."

She bowed slightly, her mirror held even and steady between two pale hands. "As you wish… Sesshoumaru-sama." The room was dark, her pale coloring and garments making her seem ghostlike in its twilight gloom, and her depthless black eyes held nothing that any eye could see, not even the smallest flicker to betray emotion. "There is more that you should see. You will view it tomorrow." It was not a suggestion, but a statement; Kanna's few words were invariably thus. As her lord… well… over the centuries he had learned that Kanna only served not because she feared, but because she chose to.

Even Naraku had not dared to threaten this creature he had birthed as openly as he had threatened Kagura, because Kanna was the dark no-thing, and the no-thingness was always distantly hungry, and pain was nothing to it. Only when the dying wind had filled the abyss had the no-thing become some-thing, a creature that did as it wished, thought as it wished, and bowed to no one, for the darkness made flesh bows to no master but itself.

The Lord of the Western Lands could disagree with what she wished all he wanted.

What Kanna wanted, Kanna usually got.

This time was no exception. "Leave, Kanna," he said resignedly, and closed his glowing eyes to emphasize his command. It didn't help his inner turmoil- the girl-child's pale sweating face and moonshine glow still haunted his thoughts like a premonition of evil things- but it did give him something to do while Kanna padded out in her sensible black flats. She would be back tomorrow, but for now she would respect his request for privacy.

He wanted to be alone.

He _really really_ wanted to be alone.

It was night time, _his_ time, and hazy unease over the miko's state clouded his inner solitude; dark clouds, heavy with the promise of rain ahead.

_Damn you, miko._

With a growl of frustration rumbling in his throat, he pushed himself to his feet, the loose folds of his outer robes flapping with the force of his roughly executed motion, and almost stormed out to the open balcony.

The wind closed around him in a soft dark breath of twilight and pale sakura petals, and he was gone, speeding towards the miko's shrine on swift, silent feet, his departure unnoticed by all but a slender pale figure standing in the shadows of a darkened room, in another part of the house. Delicately boned fingers pressed lightly on the window glass as Kanna gazed after the disappearing flash of white that was her chosen lord and surrogate father, and she smiled softly. "Be happy," she murmured, though who exactly she was saying it to was unclear- Kagome, Sesshoumaru, herself… or maybe a wise-eyed young man with wavy short dark hair in street-worn clothes, reflected unerringly in her mirror.

"_-my name is…"_

_----_

_My name is Rakuen…_

_I'm a ronin…_

_I wander around…_

_-why?_

_Because everywhere…_

…_feels…_

…_like home-_

_-maybe I know you, what's your name?_

_-funny… I thought it would be…_

_Ki…kyou…_

_No…_

_Ka-go-me…_

_I know you._

_----_

A/N: Things are finally speeding up, and we should be getting to some real SK interactions soon…. Although that might take a while. Because I'm approaching my first-year finals… so be patient, o my reviewers. (bows) Thank you. Now please click the review button… and feed the poor author.

By the way, there was some confusion about the timelines in the fic, up to Chapter 7 (A Dream of Swords). I emailed Redbutterfly1216 a brief explanation of the problems… which, for the sake of anyone else who was confused but didn't say so on the review page (c'mon pple, review!) I'll just post the explanation up here, word for word.

-- Begin Quote>

1) Kagome is stuck in the present time and has been ever since the beginning of Chapter 2(Dreams And Illusions).

2) Sengoku-jidai!Sesshoumaru traveled forward in time at the end of Chapter 5 (His And Hers), had a chat with Higurashi-mama during Chapter 6 (Somewhere To Belong) but when he went back through the well at the end of Chapter 6, the well closed and he couldn't travel through it again (henceforth I will refer to him as Old!Sesshoumaru).

3) Fast foward to Chapter 7 (A Dream Of Swords), Old!Sesshoumaru has been living through the centuries until he reaches Kagome's present-day-Tokyo. While Old!Sesshoumaru's narrative is going on, it zooms in on how he's been watching the Shrine.

4) The passage in italics is sort of a 'pause' during the story detailing his part in Kagome's sudden memory loss (which turns out to be Old!Sesshoumaru's doing, not post-traumatic-stress-disorder). This was originally written as part of the original story, not an interlude, but considering that I had to make sure I returned to where I stopped with Kagome (after her nightmare, in the corridor) the 'interlude' was shoved in. 5) After the italics passage is over, Old!Sesshoumaru's POV continues and he sits around until the night of Kagome's nightmare (the lazy sod no, just kidding!). The story gets back to normal here, with Kagome and Sesshoumaru's POV running (sort of) parallel, with no significant time discrepancy.

That's about it, without giving away too much of the story.  
Hope that helped, and continue reviewing!

-- End Quote here>


	10. The Long Way Home

_Memory's Moon: The Long Way Home_

--

Just as it had been so many years ago, the shine grounds were open to him; open, empty, waiting, frozen in a moment of preserved time as the rest of the world changed. Just as the time of youkai had passed, so had the time of human magic; at least, out of all the human countries who had so strenuously stamped out anything they could not explain in terms of science, Japan's shrine traditions still survived. Shinta had been a shining example of such a pass; a rootless onmyouji, he had mostly earned his way doing exorcisms and various odd jobs, yet the Higurashi had accepted him, because magic had become so rare.

In any case…

The humans, including the girl-child, were all still asleep- the girl seemed to be in no trouble- so it was safe to stroll around. His nose wrinkled slightly as he caught his own scent; a recent one, but not as recent as when he had come to see the girl-child last. And old, old in its fashion; the smell of ancient times, the smell of stopped time, sluggishly set in motion. His visit the night before had been quite timely, then; neither too early, nor too late. Time was a mysterious thing indeed, never a single beat out of place, even with the miko's time-twisting magic.

Sakura… the smell of pale sweet spring… the smell of Shinta's memories.

His hand clenched so tightly that the smell of blood bit into his nostrils, sharp and steely.

_Shinta_, he told himself firmly, _is dead._

Memory danced before his eyes, hazy with the fog of years, fading in and out with disjointed clarity. Yet he still remembered their conversation that day, when he had planted the seeds of death in her mind… when he had told her of her father's final legacy. Not in so many words, of course; Shinta would have hated him beyond the grave, friend or no, if the youkai had come right out and said something to the effect of '_here, your father wants you to sacrifice yourself for the good of your allies- oh, did I mention he's now a cursed sword that will erase your memories and quite possibly kill you from despair in the process?'_ because that really wasn't the human's intention at all. Shinta wanted his young daughter to be _happy_. It was just that Sesshoumaru held the opinion that the quickest route to the girl-child's 'happiness' was for her to forget everything, and stay as far away from him -_them_!- as possible.

The thought pricked him, as it had pricked him before, a needle that jabbed him time and again, bleeding him bit by bit, a tiny wound that never stayed closed, never healed.

_Kagome_, a tiny voice finally whispered in his mind, _Kagome is dead, too._

Yes. That was it. He shook the pooled blood from his hand with a short, curt gesture, like a swordsman flicking his blade clean of gore, as if he would sweep the regret, the hopelessness, from his very bones.

Yes. The girl-child was dead to him.

He went to the holy tree, pressed his still-bloodied palm with its four bitten crescent moons into the cool, slightly rough bark, and felt something in it reach out, touch the bitterness, take it away in a wash of stinging moisture lingering around his lashes. The smear of blood remained, a clear reminder to Higurashi's woman that he, Sesshoumaru, had not forgotten their unfinished business with her dead mate's wishes-

_-dead. Both of them. All of them. Dead._

He turned and leapt skywards, trying to outrun the surge of desperate despair that rose up, dark and overwhelmingly familiar.

_But how do you outrun something that you carry with you? _that tiny voice breathed, almost sadly. He gritted his teeth until a fang sharply snapped - the bit of bone rattled in the cage of his jaws, blood spurting from the abused stump, the front of his mouth afire with searing, twisting, sweet distracting agony as he ground down fiercely on his own exposed wound.

_Shinta is dead. _

_Kagome is dead._

_Father is dead._

And then, almost savagely, he thought, _but I am alive._

----

_Once upon a time, there was a flickering fire, a sleeping hanyou, a sleeping kitsune and two sleeping humans. _

_Once upon a time, a youkai lord had stilled by an ancient tree and gazed at a tiny human miko sitting by the banks of a stream, far away from any of her companions._

_Once upon a time, he had come to stand beside her curled-up form, and she had smiled up at him, an ancient, dusty, worn-away smile almost scintillating in its bittersweet brilliance._

_Once upon a time, he had almost returned the rare smile, but instead he had told her a story._

"_Over the mountains is a sword."_

"_A sword? Why a sword? I can't use a sword."_

"_It matters not."_

"…_if you say so, Sesshoumaru-sama. So what about the sword?"_

"_It is a legendary blade."_

"_We have more 'legendary blades' than we know what to do with…"_

"_Toukijin is not a 'legendary blade'."_

"… _okay, never mind. What about this blade?"_

"_It is said to be able to grant any wish… for a price."_

"_Like the Shikon no Tama? Is Naraku after it, too? If it grants wishes, then…"_

"_Even Naraku would hesitate to pay this price. But you might be able to."_

"…_what price…?"_

"_Your memory. The memories of everything you cherished…"_

"_For Naraku… no… for Onigumo, that would be… Kikyou?"_

"_I do not know. I cannot say."_

"_I…"_

"_Your memories against the future of the people you desire to protect, Higurashi."_

"_I… don't have the shards anymore. Is that why you…"_

"_No."_

_And once upon a time, he had turned away from her, the deed done, and disappeared into the moon-dappled forest, distant from the world, distant from her angry, silent tears, thinking, _so this is Higurashi's daughter.

----

Had she just seen… or was that a moon-shadow…

She pressed her hands against the glass, straining her eyes to be absolutely certain that her sleepy eyes weren't playing tricks on her. But no- the pale vision remained, a graceful gliding ghost, moving peacefully over the pristine moonlit grounds as if winter's touch still lingered, though the seasons had changed.

Whatever it was… it wasn't human. She was strangely sure of it, so sure that her bones hummed with the certainty of it. But on the other hand, it didn't seem like a vengeful spirit either…

Coming to a decision, she abandoned the glass of water she had been nursing and, as quietly as she could, padded over to the main door. The pale being was still outside; she felt it move like warm wind brushing across her thoughts, steady but distinctly… odd. It was the sort of feeling she got off some people; those kind people who ran the candy store, for instance, or, every so often, in the crowd of Tokyo's daily pilgrimages toward work.

Magic, huh… why not? Even if Mama wasn't telling her anything, Souta had told her something of what she had apparently forgotten. That she had once saved him from a possessed Noh mask… although his version of the story seemed fantastic and awfully edited for some reason, something in her had uncurled at the halting narrative, like a sleeping seed waiting for the first touch of spring, and it had finally come.

Magic. The person was magic. Maybe it could tell her what her dreams meant…

She slid the door open.

Cold night wind bit at her face, tangling petals in her hair as she reflexively flinched backwards, and when she opened her eyes again, the courtyard was empty.

But a dark smear, glistening fresh and black in the cool light of the distant moon, lay imprinted on the Goshinboku's flawless trunk.

No ghost this.

It was real.

Magic was real.

"Damn it, COME BACK!" she yelled after the retreating sense of the being, and, stuffing her feet into her shoes by the door, ran after it, ran as she never remembered running before, passing through twilight streets as she blindly tracked the burning, distant presence that was so alien, she might have been chasing the moon itself.

She'd made the mistake once- even if she didn't remember it anymore, which was the whole problem- whatever the reason was, she wasn't going to make the same mistake again. Even if she killed something in the process. Probably herself.

----

Even as distracted as he was, he felt her shift and trail him like ripples in his wake, somehow alerted to the sense of his passing.

Higurashi had spoken truly- his child was so much more than her former soul ever was. Not that the human had ever said how he knew; even Higurashi himself didn't know _how_ he knew. _Just a feeling, _he called it.

But in this case… it was annoying. And Sesshoumaru did not entertain annoyances. He put them to work, usually- Jaken had been such a useful annoyance... But if the girl-child realized what had been taken from her…

_No._

He paused on a roof, turning back smoothly to face her presence, as befitted one who had been his charge for so long.

_Is this what you wanted… Shinta?_

His claws, released from the disguise-spell, flexed, once, involuntarily.

_Is this what you wanted me to do?_

Ending it for her, for him… for both of them.

_Taking her memories but not her pain…_

…_charging me with her destiny…_

…_was it a sign that you wanted her to return to… this?_

_-No._

_This red cord you bound on us, I'll break it myself-_

"Sesshoumaru-sama."

Suddenly there was nothing in his line of sight but a raised mirror, reflecting not himself but a dark, endless void, and beyond the void-

-cerulean blue eyes…

----

A/N: Hehe, another cliffie. Of sorts, anyway. Sorry for the wait, but I'm just coming into my exam period which- as it does every year- coincides with my birthday. (gloom) Can't wait until I graduate, then I'll never have to study on my birthday again!

Try and spot all the symbols in this chapter- they're your hints for what will probably be the next chapter. And thanks to everyone who reviewed- even if it was to say you liked it and to please update. (BTW… where did all my regulars go off to?)

This story- quite possibly the fastest multi-chapter completely self-contained story and the ONLY one remotely approaching completion in my history of writing- will soon be coming to an end. And here's to hoping it'll be good and I'll pull through for you guys. HOWEVER, I will only be putting that final chapter out after my last exam- which is on the 7th of November. So now you know when to expect my last instalment. Although I might squeeze in one more chapter before then, to neaten up a few loose ends in preparation for my final grand flourish. Hahaha, you'll just have to keep waiting I guess. Sorry.

Side Note (21.10.05): Proofread, saw several glaring errors, fixed them. Enjoy


	11. A Father's Children

_Memory's Moon: A Father's Children_

--

"_Chichi-ue!... what's _that_?"_

"_Oh, you're just in time. Grab his legs, would you?"_

"_Chichi-ue, it's… it's a _human_!"_

"_I have a better nose than you, pup. Of course I know it's a human."_

"_What are you doing with it, chichi-ue?"_

"_It's sort of fun… see, he just popped out of that well just now. And look at his strange clothing! Makes you wonder what the humans are coming up with these days..."_

"_So you're going to do something with it?"_

"'_It' happens to be a 'he', pup. Even if your oh-so-esteemed haha-ue detests humans, you've no call to denigrate them that way. They ARE our vassals, after all. It's not courteous to treat your vassals like meat animals."_

"_Hmph! So, what are you going to do with 'him', chichi-ue?"_

"_Take him back, I suppose. No point in letting him wander all over the Western Lands."_

_----_

A thousand years of memory, time upon time and time again.

_-He remembered it all, with the hazy clarity of a dreamer.-_

His father's strange fascination with the human magic-user, a fascination that the human _hime_ Izayoi had captured. His own growing fondness for the strange human male, who knew nothing of the harsh youkai world he had fallen into, yet always found the right words to say when things needed to be said. The name _Kagome_, the pride and joy of the human's heart, _destined for great and painful things_.

All of those memories, stored one after the other, a charge that he had wearied of keeping, for _surely this Kagome must be hundreds of years away._ Yet Higurashi had insisted that the pup would meet _Kagome_ soon, and _you must tell her of me, tell her of me, tell her what has become of me, tell Takako too-_

_-He had remembered, but he had not known the girl when he saw her.-_

As a young pup, he had not understood Higurashi's strange knowledge, how the human had simply _known_ what all the youkai in the court could not have foreseen. So the request had simply gone down in the annals of his recollection, gradually displaced with more pressing issues. After his human-hating mother had, in a fit of jealousy over her mate and heir, bound Higurashi into the cursed sword that would come to be known as _Oborezuki_, his thoughts of the human and his girl-child had become few and far between- apart from Higurashi, who walked a very different path from most humans, there had been no other human,excluding Rin, who offered the same kind of companionship, or even any kind of understanding.

Such was the way of the world; and for youkai to hate such humans- such was also the way of the world, an instinct that ran deeper than emotion, reaching down to the primal reaction of predator and prey.

And then she had come through the well.

­­_-When had he first heard her name?-_

Certainly her strange outlandish attire and tireless propensity to shoot arrows at him piqued his curiosity, but his half-brother's presence had bulked large over her, bright red eclipsing her brief white and green slip, and the pursuit of Tessaiga had blinded him to anything but the hunt and battle. Gradually, though, she had grown away from Inuyasha's protection, scarred with the marks of her own battles hard fought, and he had found his eyes coming to rest on her more often, as if his unconscious mind worried constantly at the puzzle that was his half-brother's nameless treasure.

And then, like spring passing silently into autumn, they had begun exchanging words- a curt pleasantry here, a quiet greeting there- words that slowly grew into conversations, more words passing back and forth that had no need for names. She knew his, after all, and as a human her name was _beneath him_-

"_Na, Sesshoumaru-sama-"_

He had assumed that their peaceful impasse would last forever.

He had been terribly mistaken.

"_-when are you going to call me by name?"_

"_Are you dissatisfied with your appellation, girl?"_

"_Well, if you put it that way- _yes_. You call Rin-chan by name all the time-"_

"_You are not Rin."_

"_I'm not asking you to call me Rin, Sesshoumaru-sama… I'm asking you to call me by name. As an equal."_

"_You feel that this Sesshoumaru is your… _equal_?"_

"_You could probably kill me a hundred times over in a heartbeat, I know that, but… I suppose so. I just want to be called by name, is it so much to ask?"_

"_Does not my half-brother call you by name?"_

"_Huh! Only to yell at me, mostly…"_

"_State your name, then. Although this Sesshoumaru promises nothing…"_

"_Kagome."_

It had hit him like a slap of cold water to the face, the chill burning through his veins and settling, hard and unmoving, in the pit of his gut.

_This_ had been his charge?

"… _do you have another name?"_

"_Eh? Oh… of course… Higurashi. Higurashi Kagome-"_

_-He had a duty to her, a duty to her sire.-_

Higurashi's girl-child would never know that it had been Sesshoumaru's very intent to allow Naraku to wrest her shards away. She would never realize that when the hordes streamed upon them, swarming by the hundreds, he had slipped away, unseen, and 'returned' only when the youkai flunkies had achieved their primary objective. Kagome would only remember the nameless youkai poised above her, claws slicing down to end her life... thenToukijin casually blasting the foolish goon into a thousand bloody little shreds as the lord made his 'timely' entrance, turning the battle into a rout as Naraku's youkai fled from the arrival of a fresh, ruthless contender.

Yet even though she did not understand his true part in her defeat, some part of her- probably the one that held a trace of Higurashi's strange foresight- realized that he was not a friend. Their conversations grew more strained on her part as she drew away from him, drew away from _them_, gathering her emotional defences for the inevitable confrontation. He had rested in the secure knowledge that it was all for the best- as long as she retained a shred of hope that their ragtag little posse could actually succeed in their quest, there was literally no way in hell that she would be willing to pay the price that wielding Oborezuki demanded, for the sword would not choose those who still retained hope. And if she did not take up the cursed sword, her quest would not end- Naraku's enduring ambitions would not be dispelled- and, more importantly, Sesshoumaru's childhood promise to Higurashi would not be honored.

Decisions, decisions.

He had not anticipated the miko's enduring optimism, even though her shards had been taken. Apparently it had happened to her before- he had not counted on that. When he had finally told her of Oborezuki, carefully masking the sword's true nature in a shroud of mystic lore, he had not expected that she would attempt to find another way to resolve the hopeless situation. He had also not expected that Naraku himself- or rather, Onigumo- would at last show signs of weariness concerning the battle which had gone on for a few years now. Or else, why would the spider confront the group in person?

_-Perhaps that had been the turning point he had sought._-

He had, as for the last ambush, retreated. The rest of the group, used to his odd comings and goings, had not questioned him on that occasion, but the look in her eyes… gut-deep, she had known, even if she had not consciously anticipated his tacit betrayal.

Perceptive. But not good enough.

Inuyasha had been the first to fall, taken off guard by the blast of shouki that pierced his airways mercilessly; not even youkai healed easily from poisonous ki that rotted you from the inside out. The kitsune had fallen soon after; the houshi, beset by swarms of Naraku's poisonous insects, had finally met his end as the Kazaana fulfilled its ultimate destiny. Made foolish with grief, the taijiya and her mononoke companion had perished in a moment of fatal rashness.

Of their deaths, Sesshoumaru regretted the houshi's the most, for Tenseiga could not revive what lacked a body. But the others… something could yet be salvaged from the ruins of their hopes. For him, everything was going according to plan.

He had watched her draw her bow, had watched Naraku pull Kikyou in front of him, the dead miko bound around with all manner of spelled cords, a living undead shield. Watched the arrow fly straight and true from a bow that snapped under the pent-up pressure it had been forced to endure, Kagome's eyes wide with desperation and fear as she realized, too late, what Naraku had planned.

The dead miko had fallen to dust as the arrow pierced her heart, purified instantly; souls streamed from the cracking clay shell in a burst of invisible light, escaping into the next world. Kikyou had died quietly, her eyes solemn and serene even in the face of her final death, but there was an unearthly understanding in those brown eyes that had nothing to do with forgiveness. The miko had accepted her death. Sesshoumaru's opinion of her had risen somewhat as he surveyed the battle-torn scene from afar.

Spider and girl-child faced each other on the battlefield, one bloodied and somewhat singed by the penetrating power of the _hamaya_, the other panting with pain as the pieces of splintered wood buried into her flesh dropped away. There had been an odd look in her eyes then, half-crazed-half-distant, the eyes of a dreamer caught in a waking nightmare, and he had tensed, wondering if he would have to stop her from taking a suicide run. But incongruously she had pinched herself hard- the welt rose sharp and red under her fragile pale skin- the distant look fleeing from her eyes as misery welled up in its place, and she had fled.

His duty as observer done, he had emerged in her wake, Toukijin drawn in silent warning. Naraku would have to find his corpse-dancing puppets somewhere else; Kagome had related to the lord how the taijiya's younger brother's corpse had been controlled with a shard of the Shikon- the same fragmented jewel that Naraku held. No doubt if the lord had left Naraku to his own devices that day, the spider would have used the shards thus, if only to twist the sword deeper.

Not this time.

--

_-He was tired, too. Both of them were, this endless battle-_

Naraku was twisted, an abomination upon the earth, but not foolish. The one who had once been Onigumo, who had once been a reasonably sane human, palled of the endless search, the unending quest for vengeance and satiation. Sesshoumaru, straight and tall and proud, had faced him, Toukijin in hand, Tenseiga a pulsing fallen star by his hip, and it would not have been a lie to say that the spider saw death in the narrow golden gaze.

"_Your time is coming soon."_

"_Strong words from you, Sesshoumaru-sama, strong words-"_

"_Leave this place. They remain."_

"_And what of me, Sesshoumaru-sama? What of me-"_

Tired, just tired. He of attacking, they of fighting.

The lord had simply set Toukijin hard at an angle, the citrine eyes slipping half-lidded as the demon-forged blade warped the air about them. This, then, was his answer-

"_-does it come back to her again-"_

"_Sohryuuha."_

But as the ki dragon screamed for its arachnoid prey, Sesshoumaru lowered his killing sword, allowing the attack to dissipate on the wind with leaf-shredding fury. Naraku had fled; the standoff was over. Tenseiga had much work to do.

--

_-And in the end, this-_

So this was what it felt to be shut up in Kanna's fabled mirror. Endlessly drifting, caught in the looping recollections of one's memory, regretting and cherishing in turn. A pity that he had so few memories of Higurashi that were actually meaningful; his girl-child had given him more- but she was only human. Humans, unlike the longer-lived youkai, were _passion_. Love, live, burn out fast. Flickering little candles in the long dark waiting of the centuries. Nothing more than a passing distraction while one waited for death to creep softly up…

"_Hey, it's the pup-"_

Had he once thought of Kanna's mirror as a 'chamber'? Never again.

"_Chichi-ue,_" he admitted with tired respect. _"It has been a long time."_

Sharp golden eyes, almost peach gold with the bone-deep laughter that the old Lord had been famed for, crinkled as they gazed at each other. _"Never thought I'd have to wait so long to catch you alone," _the Lord commented, crossing his arms, while his son remained at rest.

How they existed corporeally in this void was a mystery, but… it felt comforting to have two arms again. _"You were waiting for me to die?"_ The old Lord simply gave a noncommittal shrug, mouth almost pouting, and the son felt his nonexistent blood pressure soar in a temple-throbbing leap. _"Do not answer that- I do not wish to know."_ He took a good look around. _"Am I dead?"_

"_You're dead if the void-girl decides not to let you out, yes." _Inugami, who had once been called Inu-taishou, fixed his son with a suddenly piercing glare. _"In the meantime, let's talk. How's Higurashi been getting on, and WHY are you being such a wimp about the human girl?"_

Ah, the joys of fatherhood. Not so joyful for the pup, but still. Sesshoumaru's jaw twitched sharply, invisibly. _"Higurashi is- fine, I suppose. The humans sealed him up with concrete about eighty years ago; I figured he would want to go back to sleep after all the mess with finding his daughter again. And the girl…" _It stuck in his mind, as if it defied definition.

It really was strange, how she managed to hopelessly confuse all his carefully thought out _thoughts_ just like she managed to hopelessly confuse _him._

Well, there was always redirection… his father had never been the best at hanging on to a point when he was alive... _"I was NOT being a wimp. Certainly not over the girl."_

They stared at each other, the son mirroring his sire's almost belligerent pose, twin amber gazes narrowed. Inugami's chin drew inward slightly, giving a hawkish cast to his roughly hewn features. _"Yes you were. Don't you lie to your sire, pup. First you make a hash out of keeping your vow, then you _try_ to fix it, then you decide to go cold fish on her because she suddenly becomes important to you. Damn, pup, make up your mind. Human females don't wait that long for answers, you know that."_

"_Being dead seems to have sharpened your wit and dulled your brains, chichi-ue,"_ he retorted, doggedly avoiding the barb. _"In any case, why should a mere human, a child at that, bother me? I will be here when they are gone, all of them. You of all people-" _Wait, that came out wrong. It was no use preaching about youkai tradition to a male who had given them up for the sake of a human female and a hanyou pup. Sesshoumaru glared at his sire and tried again. _"We have no obligations to humor humans-"_

"_Nonsense. Bottom line being that you made a promise and now you're backing down." _The ex-taishou gave a nearly contemptuous snort- quite an odd noise given the strange acoustics of the mirror-void, and the fact that there was no air to snort with so the noise simply… did… not… make sense. Sesshoumaru was inordinately proud that he resisted the urge to flatten his ears, never mind that he no longer had ears the right shape to flatten. _"Look, if you want her to talk to you again, you have to buck up and tell her the truth first. Even if you DON'T want her to talk to you again, you still have to tell her the truth. You owe the girl that-"_

"_-I owe her NOTHING."_

"_You owe her that because her pack-mates are suffering for your petty machinations."_

Even without a real body, he still felt cold rage prickle in his imagined veins, like phantom memories of pain. _"My servants' concerns are not my concern."_

A long, heavy silence stretched between them, razor-edged with condemnation.

"_I thought you were the more intelligent of my pups," _Inugami said finally, lowering his arms, his powerful voice quiet and awfully controlled. _"But Inuyasha is less blinded than you are, and you are a fool if you think she will not regain her memories without your intervention. Oborezuki is already on the move."_ The familiar visage began to fade, dissolving into the void as the younger youkai watched sullenly. _"Straighten out this nonsense before Inuyasha does, or I WILL haunt you for the rest of your life."_

And then the world returned in a dizzying rush, his soul filling the contours of his true body with uncomfortable intimacy, and he was staring up into Kagome's startled midnight blue eyes.

--

A/N: I've always wanted to write Inu-papa into one of my fics, and I figured that the father-son interaction would probably do this fic some good. Try to figure out what Kanna's up to… I promise there'll be a twist… probably. If anyone wants the sidestory of Kagome's dad, say so in your review; I've got the plot written out, it's just a matter of squeezing off a oneshot.

Conclusion next chapter (probably). And happy birthday to me… cya guys.


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